Staring At The Sun
by Lopaka Tanu
Summary: At what point do fans become fanatics? God help the heretic. Slash JimmyClark Articles by TK.
1. Chicken Little's Acorn

Title: Staring At The Sun

Author: Lopaka Tanu

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Lois & Clark.

Characters: Jimmy, Clark, Lois, Perry

Prompt:

Fandom: Lois & Clark: New Adventures of Superman

Pairing: Jimmy/Clark

Rating: Adult

Warnings: Language, Violence, Terrorism, Deaths.

Summary: At what point do fans become fanatics? God help the Heretic.

Author's Note: Contains disturbing themes.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

**Great things happen at the Official Superman Fan Club!**

**Have you ever seen someone harmed and wished you could help? Are you tired of the criminals running the streets day and night? How many people from your community have suffered at the hands of thugs? Do you wish there was something you could do to help stop the suffering? Join the Superman Community Watch!**

**Have no fear, Superman's Friends are here, together we can make a difference.**

**One person can hold the world in the palm of their hands. One person can change the fate of the entire human race. One person can save a life with the promise of hope for tomorrow. One person can do all this by bringing a smile to the face of a child. Superman wants you to know that all it takes is one person to save the world. Will it be you?**

**Superman is watching over you and all you love, remember, he cares.**

0000(Chicken Little's Acorn)0000

Glancing up as the elevator doors to the news room opened, Lois looked expectantly at the crowd that got off. Not seeing the object of her ire, she faced Clark. Before she could open her mouth to speak, her stomach growled. At the sound, her words were forgotten. Shaking her head, she dismissed the other reporter from her thoughts and went back to her vigil.

A short time later, the elevator dinged. Stepping out before the doors were completely open, Jimmy held the bags aloft in triumph. "I have returned baring burrito!"

Several people crowded in on him at once, including Lois and Clark. When she nearly snatched the younger man's hand off taking her bag, Jimmy frowned. He looked at Clark in confusion.

Clark adjusted his glasses, amusement clearly on his features. "Don't worry about it, Jimmy. Just be glad you got here when you did. She was eyeing the pack of new interns like a herd of Gazelle." He ignored the hand gesture Lois gave him while wiping her mouth. "Another five minutes and you would have been back to running copy for the Metro section."

Shaking his head, Jimmy handed off one of the two final bags to Clark. "You're a brave man, CK. She's killed people for less sarcasm." Patting his friend on the arm, Jimmy deliberately left his hand there. "I got you the colon buster classic, it costs a little more, but the taste is worth it."

Looking up from where Jimmy's hand laid upon his arm to the younger man's face, Clark slowly allowed a smile to form. "Thank you, Jimmy, that's very considerate."

"Any time, CK." Licking his dry lips, Jimmy nodded. "Any time."

"Please, get a room." Taking the last bag from Jimmy, Cat broke them apart by pushing between them. There was already enough testosterone in the office without adding newsboy's lust to the mix. Gently rubbing her fingers down Clark's side as she passed, she smirked at both of them. "Be sure to record it, for posterity."

"It? What it is she talking about?" Frowning at the interrupted moment, Jimmy looked to Clark for understanding. When he got a shrug in response, he sighed. There were days like today that he felt like he was the one from another planet. "Why do I even bother to try, hot women are another species where I'm concerned."

"It's something we all must learn to live with, Jimmy." Hefting his bag up, he jiggled it a little. Clark had seen the way the photographer's eyes followed it longingly. "How about I share some of this?"

"Fine with me." Jimmy's eyebrows raised as he watched Clark turn around and head down the stairs. Taking a shallow breath, he exhaled through his nose to keep from moaning. Now was not the time for that, or the place. Following shortly after Clark, he took the steps two at a time. He was almost to the break room when Clark was intercepted.

Snatching the bag from Clark, Lois shook her head. "I don't think so, boys." Picking up a smaller bag from her desk, she slammed it in to Clark's chest so he would take it. "There isn't enough ventilation in the entire building. You can have this back after work."

Peering in to the bag, Clark shook his head. "Tofu, Lois? You don't expect me to eat this, right? It isn't in any major food group. In fact, I'm not quite sure it is even edible."

"I'm perfectly serious. We have a stake out tonight, end of discussion." She turned to take the bag to the break room for the fridge but found her way blocked. Her eyes narrowed in calculation at Jimmy. "Don't interfere, I'm still mad that you were late. Speaking of which, that makes the seventh time in as many days. Where were you, Olsen?"

Jimmy cocked his head to the side. Was she serious or was this a distraction? Either way, he was going to have to act fast to get out of this one. He took his chance when she raised an eyebrow. Snatching the bag from her grip, he waved. "Bye, Lois!" Then he was off back for the elevators.

"Jimmy, you get back here! Jimmy!" Lois tried to turn and run after him, but Clark was too close and blocked her way. She hit at his shoulder. "Move, Kent, he's getting away."

"Let him go, Lois. You got what you wanted, the offending food is gone." Despite the fact he wanted to chase after Jimmy, Clark let it go. He had something if he felt the need to eat. There were times when the welfare of others was higher than his own need to stuff his face. Smiling, he pushed his glasses up his nose when it looked like Lois was backing down.

"I'm only doing this because these shoes are new. When I get on something more sensible tomorrow, he had better be prepared to run a marathon because I am hunting him down." With a growl, she turned around behind her desk. Her milk shake was melting.

Clark cast a final glance up to the door off from the elevator bank. It was a storage room for a few odds and ends like old newspapers, dead news files, but mainly things no one wanted Perry to notice. At the moment, it was Jimmy's personal office. He would go investigate to see what was keeping the younger man busy, but that would set Lois off. The last thing anyone needed was 'The Wrath of Lois' playing out in the office so he let it be.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

At one thirty, Jimmy poked his head out of the file room. Perry always called a staff meeting at one thirty-five for the afternoon edition, anyone who didn't show without a damn good reason was demoted. Having a head hunting Lois after you was not an excuse. A quick peek around the room told him that the major players in the newspaper were all heading towards the briefing room.

Stepping out of the file room, he cautiously held his bag to his chest. Inside were two of his cameras (one digital, one art), extra film, a portable harddrive, a recording device, two note pads, assorted writing instruments, and one very important thing. It was the very last that he kept closest to him. Danger lurked all around him in female form and he could trust no one with it. Finally seeing that Lois wasn't any where near, he released a sigh of relief.

That relief was short lived as the doors to the elevator opened and a hand settled upon his shoulder. Jumping in surprise, he spun away from the person. Catching sight of who it was, Jimmy put a hand to his chest. "Sir, you scared the hell out of me?"

Instead of responding, Perry pushed passed the young man. Lost in his own thoughts, he checked his watch for the time. A quick glance told him all he needed to know and he continued on to the briefing room.

For a moment, Jimmy watched him go in shock. Realizing where the man was going, he jerked himself out of the funk and followed along. He reached the door just as Perry was entering. The set of the man's shoulders and clench of his jaw said nothing good was coming from this meeting.

There were already two dozen people waiting in the briefing room. At their seats, Lois and Clark were deep in an argument. She was close to crossing the space that separated them to smack him and he was grinning maniacally at her. All noise in the room ceased when Perry slammed his palm down on the table.

Taking his seat, Jimmy had seen the slap coming, therefore did not react.

"Listen up, people, and listen good." Perry took a moment to compose himself before he continued. It didn't bode well for him if he took out his anger on them. "I've just come back from a meeting with the sales department, and they had some very interesting things to say. Despite our circulation numbers, our advertisers aren't satisfied with what they are having to pay. It seems those...people, feel that we aren't living up to our potential and the board is in agreement with them. They've made it clear to me that if we don't improve those numbers, there will be cut backs."

While the others sat there stunned, Lois leaned forward in her chair. This was nothing new to her, this kind of thing was threatened every couple of years. It was a ruse on the board's part to curtail spending and improve their profits. "How long did they give us this time, Perry?"

"Two weeks." He knew what was coming before she even spoke.

"Two weeks?" Her outraged shriek caused a few of the gathered staff to wince. "What kind of crap are they trying to pull this time?"

"This is no bull, Lois." He held up a hand at her snort. Perry shook his head when she tried to speak. "It's not a load of anything. I met with the advertisers today myself. They are dead serious about this and the board is playing lap dog. They'll go where the money is, nothing I've said will stop them."

"But two weeks? That's not enough time to get any reliable data. That's why they do quarterly reports. Any improvements would be superficial and then we would get blamed for the failure." Cat met the shocked stares of her colleagues with a level of disbelief. "What? I know about business practices."

"Be that as it may, the board is standing firm." Glad that they hadn't pressed the matter of cutbacks, Perry refocused their attention. "We have two weeks to improve circulation above the already peak numbers we've gotten. What that means is sensational stories, something that will draw in the readers. People, if you have stories you've been sitting on, now is the time to present them."

Pointing to Lois, Perry pinned her with a stare. "Lois, dig up whatever you have to, just make sure it's reliable and we can confirm it." Before she could protest, he switched to another person and realized he was getting good at cutting her out. However, the thing he was about to ask was a level he had never thought to sink to. "Cat, I know I told you no tabloid trash, but we're desperate here. If you have a reliable source, anything you can dig up I'll print."

Wide eyed, Cat nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Jimmy, I want photos. Take thousands of photos every where, canvas the city, go wherever your heart takes you." When the younger man nodded, he clapped his hands together. "Great. Clark, you're off the crime beat. Nicholetti can handle that. I want you to cover Superman. If he so much as breaks wind, I want you to be there taking notes." Perry joined in with the staff as snickers erupted. "Come on, people, be serious. I want this to be the best two weeks the Daily Planet has ever had circulation and story wise."

What he didn't tell them was their jobs would depend upon it.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Closing his office door, Perry drew the blinds and headed straight for his file cabinet. Pulling out the keys from his pocket, he unlocked the top drawer and opened it. He grabbed the first bottle he found and a glass. It was another late night at the office for him today. Filling the glass, he took a swig and winced.

He didn't know how in the hell they were going to reach the twenty-five percent improvement the board wanted. With the few ideas that they had tossed around, the little hope he had held on to sunk. As much as he wanted it to be different, it looked like he was going to lose some of his people in two weeks. They were his team, he had spent most of his career as Chief Editor assembling it. However it ended, it wasn't going to be good.

Perry was about to take another drink when a knock came from his door. He recognized the timid rap immediately. "It had better be important, Jimmy!"

After opening the door, Jimmy stuck in his head and smiled nervously. "Can I have a minute of your time, Chief? I swear to you, this is very important."

"Two minutes, Jimmy." Turning to face the young man, he held up his watch to emphasize the words. "Spill it, son."

Casting a glance behind him back in to the newsroom, Jimmy clutched his bag to his chest. When he was certain no one was watching, he slipped in the office and closed the door. He tried to appear confidant to Perry, but the man's gaze made him swallow. "Chief, sir, I got a story that I think you will be very interested in."

"You've got your assignment, Jimmy." Dismissing the young man, Perry was about to turn back to his drink. He stopped when he heard the boards under Jimmy shift signaling he was moving closer. "Don't you think you should be out taking pictures?"

"I will, sir, but you have to hear me out. This is important, it involves Superman." That got him the response he was looking for. Unbuckling the flap on his bag, Jimmy unzipped it and reached inside for his bundle. Pulling out a metallic case, Jimmy set his bag down in the visitor's chair. "Inside here is everything I have on the story. Photographs, witness statements, police reports, test results, and actual hard cover proofs."

Perry went very still, eyeing the metal case with trepidation. "Just what have you been doing, son?"

"Nothing illegal, at least not technically. The police reports are a little hard to explain away, but I got them in good faith, sir. Most of this stuff can be had just by joining a few clubs, and that is the scary part." Walking around Perry, Jimmy set the case down on his desk and pressed the code sequence on the handle to open it. When he heard the click of the locks, he raised the lid and stood back. "I was waiting until I had more proof for my own article, but since we are desperate. I am willing to share the bi-line with someone else, provided they contribute more. I figure Lois or Clark would have the right resources to help me."

Reaching in to the case, Perry pulled out a manilla folder to examine the contents. It turned out to be test results from Star Laboratories. "I'm intrigued so far. What does all this mean?"

"There's a cult forming. It is centered here in Metropolis, but there are splinter cells all around the world." Picking up a flier, Jimmy set it on top of the pages Perry was examining. "The thing that separates this one from others is that this one is centered around Superman."

For a moment, Perry's heart skipped a beat in excitement, then he caught sight of the flier. Upon skimming it, he looked up at Jimmy, foul mood returning. "Are you serious? Is this some kind of joke? Did Lois put you up to this?"

Frowning, Jimmy stared at the older man. "Chief, this is very important. I knew you would react this way, that's why I waited so long."

"Jimmy, now hold on here." Perry was about to set the papers down and lay in to the photographer, but he was inundated with more fliers.

"Just look at these, sir! Look at the printer's mark, the people behind all these clubs." He tried to raise the papers so Perry would look, but he and they were pushed back to the desk. "They're the same people. It's all connected. We have to investigate..."

"We have to do nothing! Just what in the sam hell are you trying to do, Jimmy? I'm trying to save this paper and you're wanting me to shoot us in the foot." Putting the papers back in the case, he closed it and handed it to Jimmy. "There is nothing going on here, there is no story beyond a fluff piece. Now, you can tell Clark to get Superman's opinion on all these clubs you're involved in, but that's the end of it. Don't let me catch you trying to waste the Planet's dime on this nonsense again."

Before he knew it, Jimmy was holding his bag and the metal case on the other side of Perry's now locked office door. Upon noticing he was the center of attention in the newsroom, he gave a half hearted grin before walking to Clark's desk. There, he put the case back in his bag and waited for Clark to acknowledge him. "CK, the boss man wants you to get Superman's opinion on all these clubs and organizations springing up in his name."

Adjusting his glasses, Clark took in the sight of the younger man. He didn't look too bad, but he wasn't happy either. "All right, but it will have to wait. I'm sure he has other more important things to do."

"Take your time, it's not like it matters to me or anything." Shouldering his bag, Jimmy stalked off to the stairs and elevator banks. "If anybody needs me, I'll be out taking pictures."

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Eyes gently sliding closed, Clark felt himself become numb to the world around him. His breathing evened out and a moment later he was out cold. A cracking sound brought him back to the waking world. Eyes wide, he looked towards the source and found his head had cracked the window beside him. Pushing up his glasses, he started to stretch over the backseat.

"Clark, whatever you're doing, cut it out." Grinding her teeth, Lois fought the urge to reach in to her purse for another piece of gum. Already she had a twelve pack stuck between her teeth and could barely close her jaw. Glancing down at her purse, she caught herself reaching for it and stopped. Rolling her eyes, she sat back in the driver's side seat and crossed her arms.

For the past five hours, they had been sitting out side Jimmy Mac's warehouse waiting for the crook to come out so they could follow him. So far, they had watched half a dozen different groups arrive and leave, but nothing with the very noticeable gangster. If not for the tenacity of Lois Lane, Clark would have done gone home to Kansas for his Friday Dinner with his parent by now.

As it was, considering it was Lois' car, Clark raised his arms to hide the very visible crack. "Lois, I've got to use the restroom."

"There's a bottle back there, go in that!" Once again, Lois found her eyes drawn to her purse. The gum wasn't helping.

"Lois, I'm not going to pee in a bottle while you sit there in the front seat. Besides, I have to do more than just pee." Moving towards the door, he started to grab the handle, but the locks engaged. Staring at it for a minute, he sighed. "Real mature, Lois."

"You're not getting out of this car, you will blow our cover." All the while, her eyes kept tracing the tell tale bulge in her purse. It was large, firm, and round. Fingers skimming across the seat, she forced them not to stop on the purse but keep going to the radio. Turning on the news channel, she put the volume to low. "You can hold it a couple more hours, Kent."

Clark did a quick scan of the warehouse with his x-ray vision. The sight of Jimmy Mac's top guy watching them through a peep hole on the second floor made him smirk. He waved at the man with one hand and broke the door handle with the other. Stepping out as Lois finally lost the battle with temptation, he jerked off his tie. It was definitely time to get out of there. "We've been made, Lois, investigation over. I'll see you Monday."

"Voo mhrehfump!" Mouth full of dingdong, Lois hissed chocolate cake crumbs at his back over the driver's seat. She tried swallowing, but the gooey center reached her tongue. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she shivered. She tried to tell herself it was okay, but there was still too much dingdong in her mouth to speak. Instead, she just sat there chewing slowly.

Shaking his head, Clark walked the street until he reached a corner. He put out his hand to wave for a taxi while whistling loudly. The slight over draft blew the papers off the newsstand across the street, but at least the taxi coming towards him stopped. He would take it for a few blocks, find a nice alley, and then he would be on his way to home.

Climbing in to the cab proved to be an adventure into itself. There wasn't a place inside the that wasn't covered in something sticky. He looked to the driver in question but received a bored stare. On second though, he climbed in to the front seat, which strangely, was immaculate. "Take me to the Newton Parke."

"Your dime." And not much more, the driver almost added. Giving Clark a once over, he snorted. Cheap suit, cheap hair cut, ugly glasses, the man was trying too hard. "Who you tryin to kid, buddy? No one is gonna believe that get up."

Clark's head snapped over to the driver. Jaw dropped, he fumbled for words, but he couldn't think. "Hunh?"

"Lemme guess, you're a big shot reporter? Or may be you're a P.I. for some body." Taking in Clark's shoes, he snorted. "Nope, I got it! You're slumming it. Rich kid still living off daddy's money coming down here just to play with the poor folks?" Laughing to himself, the guy shook his head once. "I've seen enough of you trust fund babies to recognize you when I see you. Do me a favor, if you're gonna keep coming back here, stay out of the rough crowd's way and don't be snoopin. We got enough trouble from that flying piggy in the blue suit without the mayor crackin out his Keystone Crowd."

'Piggy,' Clark mouthed, brow furrowing. He tried to discreetly suck in his gut, but he caught the man's attention.

"Oh, now I've upset you. Don't tell me you're one of them blue ballers who bust a nut every time the princess zooms over head." Shaking his head, the Cabby pulled the vehicle over to the curb. "Newton Parke building. All out, five bucks."

Dazed, Clark handed the man the money as he climbed out on to the curb. He was still too stunned to speak by the time the cab shot off back in to traffic. Finally, he sloughed off the criticism with a shrug. There were always going to be people who disliked him no matter how much good he did. He could hear his father now telling him 'you can't please them all, son, just do what you can and learn to accept their limitations'

"Sometimes that's easier said than done." With a sweeping gaze over the streets, Clark headed down the street. There was a back alley that rarely saw a street sweeper, let alone a trash truck behind the building. Coming around the corner, he made a quick sweep with his x-ray vision to confirm there was no one there. Taking off his glasses, he started to unbutton his shirt and headed in to the alley.

A moment later, Superman came rocketing over the three story building in to Metropolis.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Standing on the Metro-Plains bridge, Jimmy wound the film in the camera until it snicked. Bringing it up to his face, he closed one eye so he could peer through the telephoto lense with the other. "Go take some pictures, Jimmy. It's not like you are good for anything else. Oh, wait, you can also scoop out stories? Who knew? Not Perry Figgen White, that's for sure." He sighted the Luthor building across town and snapped a series of shots from the top to the bottom. "If nothing else, I can always sell post cards."

When he finished the skyline around the Luthor building, Jimmy panned west over Metropolis, scanning for anything of interest. A fire was being put out in Suicide Slums, but not fast enough to save any of the buildings already on fire. A few clicks of his camera captured firemen standing around scratching themselves. It would be good for the Crime Desk, either they were paid off, or they were ordered not to save the buildings.

After he finished there, he focused the camera on the Harbor district. After the Smokers had burned it out, Lexcorp Holdings had exercised a permit with the city to allow them to rebuild it. Already, he could see the basements of a two new hotels and a dozen high rises. If nothing else, Lex Luthor was one 'lucky' man. The few shots he took of the construction would probably end up in the metro section for good publicity.

Yawning, Jimmy let his artistic camera slide down his chest to hang around his neck and picked up the digital one. Putting the automatic snap on, he rubbed at his eyes and let the camera pan over the city. They would most likely be out of focus, but the chief wanted thousands of pictures. Let him deal with it.

He became aware the camera had run out of free memory by the incessant beeping. It took him another minute to realize he had been holding the shutter button and released it. Frowning, he turned off the camera and put the cap back on the lense.

Jimmy began to wonder why in the world he was doing up on a bridge taking random pictures. It wasn't like there weren't better things to be doing with his time. He could snap a hundred pictures of a hundred different things just touring the city. Metropolis wasn't so small that he had explored every knook and cranny. Glancing up as the sun sunk started to sink over the tops of the buildings, he set his mind in focus.

Moping, that was what he had been doing. He was upset that Perry had dismissed him and his story out of hand without really giving it a fair hearing. So what? Just because the old man hadn't given him the go ahead didn't mean the story was dead. There were other newspapers out there.

Jimmy froze.

There were other newspapers out there.

It was dangerous thinking, ideas that he had rarely ever even allowed himself to register, let alone acknowledge existed. There were other newspapers out there for him to work with, if he were so inclined. Until now, his loyalty to the Daily Planet had been unquestionable to a fault.

Clenching his fist, Jimmy shook his head slowly. "Some things are too important to be left alone for the sake of loyalty." And the sad thing to him was, there wasn't a shred of self doubt in him over the decision. "He will just have to forgive me."

"Who is that, Jimmy?" Rising up over the visual field the guard rail allowed, Superman floated high enough so that he was face to face with the younger man. "You're not going to do anything that will get you in trouble, are you?"

Cheeks coloring, Jimmy glanced away from the super hero, out over the city. "What are you doing here, Superman?" Ordinarily he would have winced at the emotionless tone of his voice, but he had just come to a serious conclusion. Emotional distress was the last thing he needed to be letting the world know about.

Superman frowned. Ordinarily, the young photographer would be upbeat about doing his job, especially given such a chance to capture his image over the city relief. Crossing his arms, Superman glided up over the railing to land gracefully in front of the younger man. He reached out a hand to lay on Jimmy's shoulder, but was surprised when he stepped back. "Have I done something to upset you?"

"No." Taking a breath, Jimmy released the pent up emotions. The effort became physical as he began to slouch in his posture. After a few false starts, he was finally able to build up the calm needed to deal with the indirect source of his problems.

The concerned look in the other man's gaze sent thoughts spinning in his head. Maybe he could do something without betraying the old man. Jimmy winced. In a way, it would be a betrayal if he did go through with printing his story in another paper. Perry would certainly see it that way.

Stepping forward, he glanced about to make sure no one was watching them. It would have been a futile gesture had they been anywhere else in the city, but the bridge rarely saw foot traffic this late in the day, too early for evening strolls. "I think you can help me, Superman."

He didn't let it show, but Superman relaxed inside. There might be hope yet. Raising his head a little, he smiled. "Anything, Jimmy."

Closing his eyes, Jimmy riffled through his memories for what might prove useful. Eventually, he settled on a more cautious approach. The near fight with Perry had left him stung. "What sort of influence do you think your presence has on humanity?" Okay, but more blunt than he had thought.

Superman considered the question for a moment. In reality, it was something he thought about often, more so than not. His mother had remarked on it just last night. "A positive one, I hope. I try to be an example of goodness and values that I believe everyone can support. Why?"

"To what extent? I mean, how far should we go to follow your example?" Excited, Jimmy put his hand to Superman's arm, letting it rest there. If this worked, he would be free of the burden.

Taking Jimmy's hand in his, Superman smiled at him. He thought he knew what this was about. "I don't believe anyone should do more than they are absolutely comfortable with." He was surprised when the hope that had been radiating in the younger man's features suddenly disappeared.

Taking his hand back, Jimmy stepped away with a shake of his head. "Thanks for nothing." The alien was completely clueless, thus, useless. Hiking the bag that crossed his chest over his right shoulder up, Jimmy stuck his two cameras back inside.

Jaw open, Superman moved to stand in front of the Jimmy. "I'm sorry if I couldn't be of more help. Perhaps if you told me the trouble, I could try again."

Jimmy snorted. "You're not human." And that was the problem in a nut shell. How do you tell a god to stop being one? This was something he was going to have to solve on his own. Still, he was being rude, he realized. Taking in the perplexed, yet hopeful alien's expression, Jimmy acted on impulse and wrapped him in a hug. "I'm sorry."

Awkwardly, Superman patted Jimmy on the back. "It's okay, I've kind of grown attached to being Kryptonian." The joke had the desired effect, relieving both him and Jimmy of their anxiety. When the photographer stepped back, he smiled encouragingly. "I'm serious about being able to help, if I can in anyway, don't hesitate to call on me."

"That's all right, I know what I have to do. It's just the doing part that I'm not sure about." He left it at that. With a short wave of good bye, Jimmy turned and headed back in to the city.

Superman watched the younger man leave until he had disappeared in the crowd that had gathered at the entrance to the bridge. Waving at the people, he kicked off from the walk and flew away. He still had dinner with his parents to get to.


	2. Henny Penny's Folly

-------------Henny Penny's Folly-----------------

Laying down the sales report for the day, Perry swallowed hard. It wasn't the end of the world, just a Saturday. Sales figures being down were to be expected. No, what would have him really worried were the figures tomorrow afternoon. If they were lower than average then he would be hearing about it from the board on Monday. As it was, he wasn't too sure they wouldn't be calling anyways.

Tomorrow, every store with more than one investor would have an ad in the paper. Sunday was harvest day for the sales department, it was the day they earned their paychecks. Of course, there was a very important thing that tomorrow lacked that today hadn't had either. One thing that really pushed the almost five pounds of paper off the shelves in to people's hands.

Looking out in to his almost deserted newsroom, Perry felt his pulse jump. They had no headlines worth a second glance, let alone enough to gain unusual attention. None of his staff writers had come up with a single eye catching story. To say it was a slow newsday was an understatement.

Checking his watch, Perry felt his blood pressure soar. It was already four, two hours until the deadline for the morning edition. If no one came rushing in to his office before then, he would have to run a puff piece on the Mayor's Ball. And if there was one thing he hated, it was giving free high profile publicity to a politician. No, something had to be done and he was going to make it happen.

Reaching out, he hit the comm button on his phone. "Darlene, get me the daily writing staff, tell them they have thirty minutes to get in here if they value their jobs."

Job done, he sat back, taking a pen with him. Turning it over in his hands, he glanced to his watch to measure their progress. After a minute, the comm button on his phone lit up. Punching it with gusto, he leaned back and smiled. "Perry."

"Sir, I have Lois Lane on the line, she is refusing to come in." Darlene's voice carried a sickly amount of cheer. "Shall I patch her through so you can yell at her?"

"Yes." May be it was time he got a new secretary. A good indication was how sadistic they got towards Lois Lane.

"Chief, I can't come in today." In the background, a great many people could be heard over the speaker around Lois.

Eyes narrowed, Perry stared at the phone. "And just why not?"

"Sorry, Perry, someone's coming out! Gotta go!" The line went dead.

With extra care, Perry hit the end call button and then the comm button. "Darlene, the usual for Lois." A special little present to let her know how displeased he was with her. "That goes double for anyone else who fails to come in."

"Yes, sir." Darlene's voice quivered in almost ecstasy from the order.

Or may be he would keep her.

----------------------------

The third time his pager went off, Jimmy turned it off completely and put it in his bag. It had been placed on vibrate when he entered the Friends of Superman Fan Club meeting just in case of emergency. But the third time he got a call from the paper was the final straw. It was his day off, if they wanted something from him, they could wait until he was back on their dime. Besides, any sighting of Superman would have the club running with their cameras and that was all he was interested in today.

The FSFC Platinum Membership meeting was held in the Metropolis Golden Spire Cafe the third Saturday of every month, in contention to the regular Tuesday and Thursday evenings. It was the monthly progress report/convention of members who had proven they were dedicated to the premise of the club. Jimmy had long ago earned a place among them, having grand fathered his way through the membership tiers.

On the dias erected by the Golden Spire's staff specifically for their party, a woman with golden curls in her hair and black eyebrows stood grinning at the gathered. She was the special guest, having been saved by Superman from a raging automaton that had escaped the Metropolis armory. "It was great, the best moment of my life."

Applause erupted around the dias, but the back of the room, where Jimmy sat, remained silent. At their table, Jimmy and the four other original members of the club remained unfazed by the enthusiasm. The four tables around them were varied in their general approval, but kept silent as well in deference to the original club. They were the leaders of the various chapters, taking their cues from the organizational leader.

For his part, Jimmy rarely participated beyond his newsboy position required. He was the press agent for the club, having sponsored and written several articles that appeared in the Daily Planet's metro section. As it was, that was almost a full time job in itself. Appearing at every major event to take pictures and notes had swallowed his lunch hour and weekends. One good thing, though, the free food and drinks.

Before he knew it, the woman on the dias had been replaced by a woman he didn't recognize. He turned in question to Michael Bay, the man beside him and founder of the club. Raising his eyebrow, he nodded towards the stage.

Michael slid a paper menu over to Jimmy, pointing to a name on the list. "If you had come to the meeting last night, you would have known."

Jimmy read the name, but it wasn't familiar to him. "Don't start, Mickey, I was busy." He scanned a little further down before giving up, not recognizing any of the people on the list of speakers. "Let me guess, you rounded up every Tom, Dick, and Shelly who's had any contact with Superman in the past week."

"Past month, but again, if you bothered to show up, you would know. As the agent, it is your job to be on these things." Michael nodded politely when a spotlight came on him, the speaker directing attention at him. With a wave of his hand, the light turned back to the stage and the speaker went on. "Jimmy, it is important that you be in on this. The club is going international in a week and you've missed half the important meetings. As one of the founding members, you are a significant player."

"Forgive me if my scope is focused on a much narrower portion. When I joined I didn't intend to become a figure in your world domination schemes." Jimmy hid the comment behind a laugh, but he knew he hit on something when Michael cast a side glance at him. "Relax, Mickey, I understand how important this is to you, and for the most part, I agree. Just don't expect me to be on board with everything that goes down, that's why you have Danny, Sal, and Ritchie."

Michael slid a hand under the table, letting it rest on Jimmy's thigh. "You are important, Jimmy." Keeping the main portion of his attention on the crowd, he watched the younger man out of the corner of his eye.

Closing his eyes, Jimmy leaned back in his chair. This was one of those moments he questioned just how much a story was worth. Slowly, he closed his legs and pushed back from the table. Standing, he put his napkin over his plate and slid the strap of his bag over his shoulder. Around him, the people started to grow quiet, but he kept to himself.

Ignoring their looks, he walked calmly to the door and out of the meeting. The sunlight hurt his eyes, making him blink back tears as he entered the lobby. For a moment he thought something was wrong with his eyes until he realized that the flashes were actually from cameras. Holding up his arm over his face, he glared at the gathered crowd.

"Hey, kid, get out of the way!"

"That's no kid, that's Jimmy Olsen! He's moving in for the scoop!"

The rest of what they were saying was lost in the sudden melee over reporters, photographers, cameramen, and fans all trying to be the first ones through the barricade.

His vision having cleared, Jimmy took in the cordoned off lobby of the Golden Spire Building. Behind large velvet ropes manned by armed security guards were almost a hundred people, each with cameras. For a moment, he was too stunned to move. It wasn't until the doors opened again behind him that he stepped out of the way.

Unfortunately, the person who had come out behind him had other ideas. Grabbing Jimmy by the arm, Michael spun him around. He deliberately tripped up the younger man so he would fall in to his arms. A small smile tugged at his lips over the dazed expression on Jimmy's face.

"Mickey? What are you doing?" Jimmy tried to regain his balance, but the older man dipped him backwards. Out of instinct, he clutched desperately to him.

Face to face, Michael licked his lips. He took in the breathless Jimmy as he leaned forward. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to Jimmy's.

For a while, all Jimmy felt was the other man's arms around him. The smell of him over powering, he relaxed into the kiss. He started to let it go further until the sound of snapping and whistling brought him out of it. With a quick slap to Michael's back, he let his displeasure known.

Reluctantly, Michael stood erect again, bringing Jimmy with him. All smiles, he tried to retain hold of the younger man's hand, but was disappointed when Jimmy slipped away. He moved to follow, but the doors behind him opened again and the reporters surged forward this time succeeding to get over the velvet rope.

Jimmy took advantage of the chaos to break free and in to the crowd. To keep from standing out, he pulled his camera from his bag. Holding it up, he hit the auto snap and backed out of the lobby and on to the street. The outside was much worse, people were lined up on all the sidewalks for at least five blocks in every direction.

Frowning, Jimmy stepped off the curb and waved for a taxi. He could barely afford it, but there was no getting through that mob. Luckily, people had taken several in coming to the Golden Spire Building, so the curbs were lined with them. He climbed in to the fastest cab to respond and slammed the door shut. "Fifteenth Street Bridge Metro Station."

"God Christ Almighty, what kinda monkey circus they got goin on in there?" Pulling in to the almost empty intersection, the cabby floored it through the red light. "I tell you, I'm glad to be rid of that mess. Thank god you came along."

"You have no idea how glad I was you were there. I swear those people were going to rip me apart." Chuckling, Jimmy felt almost hysterical in his relief. His hands shook a little as he ran one through his hair.

"You don't say." Eying his passenger in the rear view mirror, the cabby smirked. "You got somethin on your lips, pally."

"Huh?" Licking his lips, Jimmy frowned. He could taste the keylime on the coolwhip. He hadn't had any pie, but Michael had. "Sloppy eater as well as a sloppy kisser." Shuddering, he slumped in his seat. So much for his inside take.

Smirking, the cabby refocused his attention to the road. "Girl trouble?"

"Something like that." Luckily, before the cabby could ask further, they had reached the station and Jimmy was handing him the last of his hard earned paycheck. "Keep the change!" Climbing out, he fingered the metro pass keyring on his bag to ensure it was still there. If he had lost it, he would be walking the forty blocks home. With a great sigh of relief, he sat down on the bench waiting for his train to come.

------------------------------

With a kick, Jimmy slammed the door to his apartment closed. The ride on the subway reminded him why he rarely, if ever, road it. Thanks to the denizens of the half lit, creaky cars, he was now wet, sticky, and smelling like rancid milk. The last was from a baby that had been in the arms of the single mother that sat beside him. All she had done was laugh at him when it happened.

He hoped the baby spitup in her open mouth.

Pulling the strap of his now stained bag over his head, he let it drop to the floor beside him with a sigh of disgust. It was probably a lost cause now. He needed a new one anyways.

Jimmy quickly unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall beside the bag. With a sigh of relief, he stretched. Taking a deep breath, he caught a whiff of the smell of his clothes and gagged. Hand over his mouth, he rushed to the window across the living room. With what felt like a mammoth effort, he pulled the window up from the sill. Once it was free, he took several cleansing breaths.

The honking of horns on the streets below almost made him close it again. It wasn't the best of neighborhoods, but it was good enough to live in. Shaking his head, he turned back to look at his meager apartment. The run down furniture was mostly from street corners and second hand shops. At least it was comfortable.

Kicking off his shoes, he aimed them for the door. As they crashed to the floor, the neighbor below his apartment bangged on his ceiling. To piss him off, Jimmy bounced three time in his sock covered feet. "Every day it's the same thing."

He was heading for the fridge to see what kind of soda he had when he caught sight of the message light flashing on his answering machine. There were over thirty messages on the machine. Frowning, it took him a moment to realize what it was about. The memory caused him to hit the delete button repeatedly until he heard the machine squeal. It's screech was very pleasant to his ears.

The ringing of the phone startled him for a moment and he started to look at the machine as if it might attack him. By the time he came to his senses and back to reality, the phone had rang twice and the machine picked up. Jimmy reached out to shut it off and unplug the entire set up when a very familiar voice came over the speaker.

"Jimmy, I know you're there! Young man, I suggest if you really care about your job, you pick up right this instant and explain just what the hell you think you are doing."

It was the wrong thing to say.

With a cry, he slammed his fist down on top of the machine. The next moment, his eyes shot open wide, then narrowed, and started to water from the pain. "Son of a bitch!" Dancing around, clutching his injured appendage, Jimmy groaned. It wasn't the smartest thing in the world to do, but at the moment it made him feel some what satisfied. The only thing that could have been better would have been to hit the chief in person. Then again, he still liked his job enough to want to keep it.

While he was shaking out the pain in his hand, a knock echoed through out his apartment. At first, he looked to his door, but it hadn't sounded right. A cleared throat drew his attention to the window. Favoring his sore hand, he walked over to it and drew back the curtain. He was only a little surprised to find the man of steel floating outside. "What do you want?"

Looking down, Superman saw that his presense hadn't gone unnoticed. Frowning, he leaned in closer to the window. "Can we discuss this inside your apartment?"

"Discuss what? Has something happened?" Quickly alarmed, Jimmy stepped back from the window to let Superman in. He held back the curtain to allow him easier access to the room.

Climbing through the window, Superman put his feet in first. Sliding through the rest of the way, he sat down on the window sill. He took a moment to scan the room and orient himself before he focused on Jimmy. "I came to find out why you left so suddenly back there."

Snorting, Jimmy turned away. "It was nothing."

"I saw you kissing him, it didn't look like nothing." Crossing his arms, Superman stood up. Unconscious of his actions, he moved closer to the younger man. "Do you want to tell me what..."

"No, I don't. And frankly, it's none of your business." Glancing over his shoulder, Jimmy caught the concern in Superman's expression and froze. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know what is going on with you, Jimmy. You've been distant lately and now I see you making out with the head of my fan club. What has gotten in to you?" Voice rising in pitch, Superman uncrossed his arms.

"Making out with him? I can't stand the guy!" Incredulous, Jimmy scoffed before looking to the window. "I think you need to leave now."

"I think I should stay. There is obviously more to this than you are letting on." Superman side stepped until he came in to Jimmy's view again. "If you weren't making out with him, how do you kiss the poeple you like?" He winced after he finished speaking, realizing just exactly how he sounded.

"You're not Kryptonian, you're a bat! He kissed me, I had no part in it! And why the hell am I defending myself to you over this? We don't have a relationship, a few quick thrills and a hug on a bridge, that's all!" Livid, Jimmy ripped the curtain off the window. With as much effort as he could muster, he threw it out on to the street below. "Get out!"

"Jimmy," Superman tried, but found his cape being dragged to the window.

"Now, I mean it!" Jimmy refused to meet the alien's eyes as he walked over to the window. He waited until he heard the tell tale sonic boom before he slammed it shut. A minute later, Jimmy heard an electronic beap of a button being pressed, then a dial tone. It took him some time to process what it meant. When it dawned him, he looked at the phone in horror.

--------------------------------------

Staring at the phone stunned, Perry set his half chewed cigar down on his ash tray. He took a moment to clear his throat and compose himself before looking up at the two women in front of him. For a time, he was at a loss for words. Nothing in all his years of journalism had prepared him for this. Then again, nothing had prepared him for a queer alien that flew around in a leotard and wore his underwear on the outside of his uniform.

Rubbing a hand over his chin, he sat back in his chair. The squeal of it reminded him he had to call in the maintenence people to have it oiled again. "What have we here is a very interesting situation, Ladies."

"Actually, Chief, what this means is I have all the evidence I need." Hitting the rewind button on her recorder, Lois turned up the volume. When the tape had gone back a few minutes, she hit the play button.

"...this inside your apartment?"

"Discuss what?"

She clicked the buttons, turning it off. "The sound is a little grainy, but it will hold up in court for a libel case." Pushing off the file the contents of her purse, which she had scattered in her rush to get the recorder out of it, she picked it up off Perry's desk. Opening it, she tossed it down to land on the blotter in front of him. "With these pictures from today and yesterday, there is more than enough proof to cooberate my story."

"What story might that be?" Already, Perry knew the headlines were forming behind Lois' eyes.

"The gay love triangle, of course." Pushing aside her purse with her hip, Lois settled on the corner of his desk. A smirk lit her features. "You wanted juicy scandles, nothing sells a paper faster than something about superman on the front cover."

"You can't be serious." Speaking up for the first time, Kat snorted at Lois' nod. "Please, this is paper thin to say the least. We print this and we might as well start producing doctored photos of crop circles next." At the looks Perry and Lois gave her, she crossed her arms and took an affronted stance. "Please, everyone knows that you had better have some pretty damn hard evidence before you start slinging mud at the flying boy wonder. At least if you wish to keep your job, that is." Leaning over the desk, Kat tapped the photos. "Nothing sinks a paper's circulation faster than a false scandle."

"She has a point, Lois." Turning the photos so he could get a better look, Perry cocked his head to the side. "All you have are a few sketch shots of the two of them hugging on a bridge and a man kissing Jimmy. While I admit, that looks like one hell of a kiss, the other one just doesn't wash. Thousands of people hug Superman every week, one hug does not a lover make."

Pushing aside the photo he was looking at, Lois pulled one from the bottom of the stack and set it on top. Picking up the magnifying glass from beside her thigh, she set it down over the picture's upper right corner. "Take a look at that and tell me what you see."

"It's a picture of Jimmy and this other guy." Raising his eyes, Perry looked Lois in question. "This is just like all the rest."

"Wrong. Check the space just above their shoulders. More specifically, the men in the background." While Perry picked up the magnifying glass, Lois sat up and dusted her nails. "Most people were focused on Superman entering the lobby. He was preceeded by a small entourage, so they missed this little shot. Happily, my camera girl is a pervert and just happened to be focused on the liplock. She caught the entire thing on camera. Including superman's reaction." Flicking some dust off her shirt, she grinned. "My he does look pissed, doesn't he."

"What's the matter, Lois, jealous?" The glint in the other woman's eyes made Kat's smirk grow three sizes. Picking up a couple of the kiss photos, Kat pretended to examine them. "Such a shame, you've been pining away for him all these months. Did he notice, nope. All those articles, the fan letters, calling his name every time you saw him. Why, you practically threw yourself at him, and yet he still rejected you." Holding up one where Superman and Jimmy were hugging on the bridge, she held it for Lois. "Now we know why."

Snatching the photo from Kat, Lois threw it on Perry's desk. "Oh, give it up, you were lusting after him too! The words dog in heat comes to mind."

"Poor Lois, forever a wall flower, alone and shriveled, you'll die alone." She patted the other woman on the cheek.

"Ladies!" Perry didn't bother to look up, he knew they were still glaring at each other. The photo was way more interesting.

"I suppose." Sighing dramatically, Lois looked away as if upset. "If Superman prefers Jimmy, it's still better than him sleeping with you. That would ruin any man's reputation."

"A bad reputation is still better than the crabs he would get from you! Don't try the innocent act with me, Lois, we've all seen you scratching like a baseball player at the board room table." Kat caught the stapler Lois threw at her then returned it twice as hard.

Lois started to reach for the pencil holder as she ducked the stapler, but found it pulled from her reach. "Perry!"

"Enough!" Rising from his chair, Perry slammed both his hands on his desk hard enough to cause it to vibrate. "I've had it up to here with your bitchy, bigoted attitudes! The two of you can either cut the shit or you can get the hell out of my office! On second thought, do the latter anyways!" Pointing at his office door, he nearly strained his arm from the force of the move. "Lois, write the damned story, but you had better make sure you double check all your facts. Star reporter or not, you get us sued and you're out on your ass! Kat, get this other man's story. Now don't let the door hit you on the way out!"

With a huff, Lois stalked by Kat to the door. In the exit, she stuck out her tongue and shuffled off.

Staring at Perry for a moment, Kat snorted. Walking out, she slammed the door shut.

With a guttural sigh of relief, Perry sagged back in to his chair. Before he could calm his racing heart, the door to his office thumped as the outline of a woman slid down the glass. From the short black hair, he knew who had lost the fight. He checked his watch and shook his head. Lois used to last longer than that.

--------------------------------------------------------

Perverted Sexual Predator Taunts Superman by Lois Lane

Shocked does not begin to explain my reaction to the lover's tiff I overheard between Superman and the Daily Planet's own James Olsen. Unfortunately, the rumors do seem to be substantiated. Not only was an argument recorded, but recent photos have shown the two in a close embrace on the cities bridge. James Olsen has been seen, and photographed, several times in an unseemly, intimate position with Metropolis' Resident Alien.

These facts lead one to wonder if the photographer had been receiving and publishing, off the record exclusive information. Were the photos not the result of good work, but instead, a product of obsession and stalking? Worse yet, in this reporter's opinion, did the alien pose for these shots? Perhaps they were gifts that the young man used without consent?

Now that Olsen has gotten the fame he wants from the Caped Crusader, did he push him to the wayside, anxious to suffocate the president of Superman's fan club by tongue? Was this stunt a play for more fame or a cruel attempt to destroy another man's heart?

Olsen, you say you weren't making out with him? That he kissed you? Really, stop denying it, you were caught on film and tape! It would seem like the only way you can achieve sexual gratification is by the forced humiliation of another man. Are you that desperate for fame? Why don't you try working for it, instead of making the world witness to your perverse lifestyle!


	3. Cocky Locky's Disbelief

-------------Cocky Locky's Disbelief--------------

Martha Kent was never one to condone a late riser. Having instilled the value of a good morning's worth of work in her son long ago, she was more than a little disgusted with the fact that it was now seven and he still hadn't deigned to show his face. He was home, the least he could do was sit with her in the kitchen while she made breakfast. In fact, it was almost ready, his nose should have awakened him by now.

As if in response to her thoughts, the back door opened and Jonathan entered. Scowling up at the ceiling, he set the plastic newspaper bag on the table. Taking off his coat, he smiled at Martha before leaning over to give her a kiss. "That lazy son of yours still not up yet?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. No son of mine would be late for breakfast." She carefully kept her voice pitched at a level she knew would draw Clark's attention.

"All right, all right, I'm up!" Trumbling down the stairs, Clark yawned and scratched at his back. Having forgot how uncomfortable his bed had become, it ached to sleep on it for too long. Catching his appearance in the mirror just before the dining room, he shook his head. The hair would be a lost cause until he took a shower.

Carrying the platter of eggs over to the table, Martha took in the appearance of her son and sighed. Once she had set it down, she ran her fingers through his hair until it was sorted. "Honestly, what is that city doing to you? Late to rise, hair all a mess, you would think you didn't sleep last night. The chickens down the street can attest to the fact you did and I'm sure the window panes are glad you are awake."

Snorting, Clark leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, mom. I didn't snore, really, I don't snore." At her look, he ducked his head. Taking his seat at the table, Clark dug in to the eggs before his father could. "I, just, had a little trouble sleeping last night. A good friend of mine is upset with me, well, Superman actually and I guess it weighed on my mind a bit."

"No kidding, the last time I heard that kind of rolling coming from that room was... Well, never mind." Suddenly interested in breakfast, Jonathan took the spoon from Clark and started to pile on his own plate. Handing it to Martha, he grinned at her. "It looks wonderful, dear. You've out done yourself again."

Patting his hand, she doled out two strips of bacon to him. "Nice try, Jonathan, but you know the doctor's orders. The only reason we are even having bacon is because Clark is home." To emphasize her point, she put two pieces on her plate, then set the rest on Clark's. Seeing her husband giving Clark's plate a longing stare, she shook her head. "Some times I wonder which do you love more, me or my cooking."

"Your cooking comes second, always." Taking her hand, he gave it a squeeze. With a final look at the bacon, he set about getting the spinach leaves she had made to counter. A balanced breakfast meant twice as much healthy as fattening. To that, he also had orange juice, and pineapple on his plate. To finish it off, he had fresh made bread. "You know, Martha, no matter how much I love your home made bread, this canned stuff from the market is great too."

"Good, now I won't feel bad for the fact I've decided never to make mine again. Twelve hours just for a few loaves, it isn't worth the hassle." Spreading her own with butter, she turned back to Clark. "Your father and I have been considering making a few changes to the farm. He won't say it, but it's just become too much for the both of us these days."

"Oh? If you need my help, all you have to do is ask, I'll be glad to do the extra work. Really, it would be no trouble at all." Meeting his mother's gaze, he put on his 'world's greatest son' look as she had once dubbed it. At her sigh, he faltered. "Is something the matter, mom?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that, we aren't getting any younger, Clark. We need to cut back and enjoy the perks of being our age." Taking a sip of her orange juice, she made a sound of happiness. She savored the flavor. "This is really good. You always did know how to pick out the best fruit, my smart little boy."

"For heaven's sake, Martha, give the boy a break." Annoyed by the show, Jonathan picked up the paper and pulled the bag off. Turning to Clark, he used it as a pointer. "What your mother is trying to say, not so successfully, is that she wants grand children."

"We want, Jonathan, we. And there is nothing wrong with longing for something that every mother longs for as she gets older." A thump on the table startled her as it set the dishes to bouncing and drinks to sloshing. Glancing up from her plate, Martha saw it was only Clark's forehead. "Oh now, Clark, I'm not arranging your marriage or anything like that."

"Only because all the girls his age in town are taken and we live too far from Metropolis for you to meddle." Laughing, Jonathan tried to feel sorry for his son. For the life of him, he couldn't do it. He was a single man at the right age, it was time for him to settle down. "Are you at least looking? We would be satisfied if that were the case."

"For now." At Clark's look, she returned it full force. "I have nothing to be ashamed of. Wanting my son to be happily married with children is perfectly normal."

"Mom." One plaintiff word expressed everything he wanted to say. He was a grown man, he didn't need her reminding him that he wasn't married. "I'm superman, it's still very new. People are still getting used to the idea I exist. And in all honesty, I don't think a relationship would work out even if the other person knew my secret." Picking up a piece of bread, he stuffed his mouth before he could say more. She was his mother and he had a tendency to over react to any suggestion he wasn't comfortable with. If he went on, he would venture past logical to whining.

Giving her husband a look, Martha smiled and sighed. "Don't think I'm going to give up so quickly because you won this round. Now slow down, this isn't a race to clean your plate."

Chuckling, Jonathan picked up a piece of bacon and stuck it in his mouth. Chewing slowly so he could enjoy the forbidden food, he picked up the paper. The next moment he was choking on it and gasping for breath.

Alarmed, Clark sped around the table to his father's side and patted him on the back until he gestured him away. He looked to his mother when he caught her rising from her seat.

Breathing roughly, Jonathan waved them both off. Face ruddy from the fit, he thrust the paper at Clark. He slapped it a couple times to show what set him off.

Clark frowned as he looked at the paper. It was the Daily Planet, Kansas City edition. Scanning the headline, he had to read it three times for the words to register in his mind. Even then, it still didn't make much sense. To clarify, he read the article that accompanied it, quickly dropping it after he finished.

"Oh, for pete's sake." Picking up the paper, Martha adjusted her glasses and read the headline then the article. Mouth open as she finished, she lowered the paper slowly. Taking a deep breath, she let out a disappointed sigh. "Well."

"Mom, I can explain." Clark was silenced when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"That's okay, Clark. There's nothing to be ashamed of." Patting his shoulder a couple times, she smiled for him. "You'll just have to adopt. There's nothing wrong with that, we did, after all, and look how well you turned out."

"Martha." Voice strangled, Jonathan grasped for his glass of orange juice and guzzled it. Shaking with relief when he was done, he cleared his throat several times. "Lets... Let's all just sit down and finish breakfast. We'll deal with this later." Satisfied when they complied, he looked down, forlornly noticing the chewed up bacon on his shirt.

Still smarting from the whole thing, Clark plopped down in his chair. A warning look from his parents caused him to take greater care when he pulled up closer to the table. There was one thing clear in all this.

No matter what, Lois was dead.

----------------------------

Head aching, Jimmy pushed the shower curtain back to let himself out. After the conversation he hadn't meant to be overheard, he had spent the rest of the night proving to himself he could get drunk. From the way the dim lights over the sink made his brain hurt, he had succeeded. Turning them off, he let the morning sunlight filtering through the blinds guide him through drying off and getting dressed.

On his way to the door, he felt hesitant to go out there. Who knew what they had printed about the fight yesterday. There was certainly enough damning evidence to infer a mountain of speculation. Through out the night, he had gone over any possible evidence they might have had. The conversation, pictures of Micky mauling him, and the articles he had contributed on, it added up to a very ugly scenario.

Grateful for once that he didn't get the Daily Planet delivered, Jimmy opened his door. What he saw scrawled across his door, however, sent his mood plummeting. Slamming the door behind him, Jimmy tugged his jacket hood up. This was not going to be a pleasant day.

----------------------------

Stepping off the elevator, Clark adjusted his tie for the tenth time before deciding it wasn't worth the effort and pulled it off. Sticking the offending noose in his pocket, he glanced about the newsroom. There was more activity that was normal for a Sunday morning. Then again, after the headline that morning, he wasn't surprised.

Anger welling up in him, he had to force himself not to find Lois and melt her with his laser vision. Heaven knew, she deserved whatever happened to her from here on out. The article had been pure spite and bullshit. If he could, he would get her kicked back down to the metro section.

The sound of ripping cloth brought him back to his senses and he released his pocket, which now hung open halfway off the jacket. Calming himself less he do damage to something or someone, he walked down the steps. People gave him a wide berth, allowing him to head straight for the editor's office. Gripping the handle, he felt it squish in his hand, but didn't care. Pulling the door open, he nearly jerked it off its hinges.

Inside, a grinning Perry too one look at Clark and wiped the good humor on his face. "Clark! What the hell do you mean by coming in here like that? Boy, you about gave me a heart attack!"

Reaching in to his back pocket, Clark pulled out a rolled up newspaper and threw it at the man's desk. It went through a glass trophy, shattering the thing instantly. "You want to tell me just what the hell this is, sir?"

Going still, Perry looked at the remains of his prize through narrowed eyes. Voice flat, he addressed the reporter. "I think you know what it means."

Stomping his way over to Perry's desk, Clark loomed over the man. "I thought you had integrity or doesn't the reputation of this newspaper mean anything any more? Are you that desperate to sell a few more papers that you would stoop to slander?"

"I'm going to forget you just asked that out of deference to all the hard work you've done for me. But if you don't get out of my office right this minute, you won't be so lucky." Swiveling his chair so he could face the man down, Perry rose slowly from it. "I'm giving you a chance to keep your job, that's more than I would have given anyone else."

"You can take this job and..." Backing up, Clark shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe it. All this time I was wrong about you. You're no better than anyone else." Turning on his heel, Clark marched over to the door. Closing it quickly behind him, he let it shut on its own momentum.

Crossing quickly past the copy editor's desk, he grabbed a box of note books and dumped them. Taking the box, he walked to his desk and started to throw everything that he owned in it. Lowering his glasses, he fried the hard drive on his computer before picking up his box. The next person would have to worry about getting a replacement, he was through.

Stomping his way to the elevator, he ignored the startled looks everyone was giving him. Once there, he waited a few seconds for the car to rise, but when it didn't come fast enough in his opinion, he took the stairs.

When it finally arrived, a very disgruntled Lois stepped off. Putting a kick in her step, she strode down the stairs toward's Perry's office. At the door, she was about to turn the handle when she felt finger grooves in the knob. Shaking her head, she pushed the door open and came face to face with an irate Perry. "Perry?"

"Lois." Perry grabbed her by the shoulders and shifted her to the side so he could look past her. Leaning out of his office, he looked over at Clark's empty desk. Releasing a heavy breath, he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Now's not a good time."

"You're telling me!" She was about to go on, but Perry stared at her. His haggard appearance was enough to silence the bitter diatribe she was about to launch in to. Pointing over her shoulder, she gestured to the newsroom. "I've got a new lead, something for tomorrow's headlines."

"Good. Get to it." Grasping the door by the handle, Perry gently, but forcefully, shut it and her out.

----------------------------

"What the hell are you doing here?" Favoring the right side of his face, Jimmy tried his best to glare at Michael. The swelling made the feat almost impossible. Having been hiding in his usual Sunday afternoon hangout, a place he thought no one knew about, Jimmy hadn't expected for the asshole to appear in front of him. As it was, he was ready to throw up the lunch he just had all over Michael.

"I thought I'd come by and see how you were doing." Glancing about him, Michael took the seat across from Jimmy, ignoring the other's appearance. "I'd have thought, after this morning, you'd be laying low."

"After yesterday, I should lay you low! You're a fucking dick, Micky." Unable to tolerate the other man's mere presence, Jimmy rose from his seat and tossed a twenty on the table. It had been a struggle visiting the public teller this morning, but he needed money after yesterday's cab fare. He had come away with every penny he withdrew, but the fight had left him battered.

Trying to keep Jimmy there, Michael reached out and snatched his arm. He didn't count on how pissed Jimmy was. The retaliation was as quick as it was violent. The uppercut caught him under his jaw, throwing him from his chair and over the table.

Breathing heavily, Jimmy stared at where the other man laid on the floor unmoving for a minute. It took several tries before he could calm himself enough not to go ahead with another attack. He wasn't that person, he wouldn't become the monster. Now shaking from the adrenalin shock, Jimmy looked up shakily to stare around him.

The cafe had gone quiet, but no one was stepping in to intervene.

Turning, Jimmy brought up a hand to his face, then winced when he realized how badly it hurt. He shook his head, then staggered out the door.

----------------------------

The knock on his office door almost earned the rapper a quick pink slip, but Perry bit back on the thought before it gained voice. It wouldn't due, he could face penalties for that spiteful action. Besides, he could always fire them later. Heaven knew everyone around there did enough to warrant it at least once a week. Instead, he blew out a long plume from his cigar before clearing his throat. "Enter."

Twisting the handle, Kat frowned at the strange pattern imbedded in the knob before pushing the door open. The stink of tobacco had filtered through the door in to the main office warning any who had thoughts of seeing the editor now wasn't a good time. Despite this, she perceived and stepped inside. Holding up the three by three floppy disc, she walked over to Perry's desk. Without saying a word, she set it down in front of him.

Knowing what it was, Perry picked it up and pushed it inside his hard drive with enough force to make it wobble. Bringing up the document, he scanned it quickly. Halfway through, he slowed down and the cigar on his lip began to sag. Taking it out, he wiped his mouth and glanced up at Kat. "Is this true?"

"Every word." Feeling triumphant, Kat sat down across from Perry and threw her ankles over the arm of the chair. It was a good day when she surprised even the boss.

"This is good work. I'm surprised Lois didn't cover it." Saving the document, he sent it to the printing department. It bothered him, that Lois had missed this much information. Leaning back, he began to wonder just what else they missed. "I won't say I'm sorry we printed the story. At the time it was news."

"But?" Keen eyes tracked his every nervous moment. Yes, it was a fantastic day.

"But..." He took a deep breath, frowning at her. "We may have jumped the gun a bit on this one."

"I just love it when I'm right, don't you?" Sitting up, she placed both her feet flat on the floor. "So, what was the final death toll for this morning's printing?"

"We sold out." He enjoyed the way she went still. When she raised her eyebrows in surprise, he picked up his cigar again. "Even with the extra printings, world wide, we sold out. A full two hundred percent over normal Sunday Circulations is the final tally."

"Well, it's nice to finally know the price of our reputation." Rising from her chair, she twisted so she could lean a hip against his desk. Knowing how much it bothered him, she flicked at the pens in his cup. "If you keep printing that market rag drivel Lois keeps writing, and I use the term loosely, our reputation as a serious newspaper will be shot. That is the only reason so many people bought this morning's edition. If we print it, it has to be true."

"You've made your point. Both you and Kent... Never mind." Sending a cloud her way, Perry exhaled his anger. "Since, as you stated, Lois can't be objectional and it falls under your jurisdiction as society columnist, I want you to continue following this. As the only one he might be willing to let near him, I want you to speak with Jimmy. Get his take on this whole thing and see if we didn't just step in some serious dog shit, instead of falling in it face first."

A sly smile in place, Kat stood up. "I like how you think, Perry. And for the record, this is what you should have done in the first place. Lois has no business messing with my field of expertise." Crossing to the door, she reached for the handle, but stopped once her fingers settled on it. Something had occurred to her. Turning it, she smirked. "You should have told me Superman came by earlier. He left finger prints in the door knob, so I know he must have been pissed. Boy, I would have loved to been a fly on that wall." Laughing, she let the door slam behind her.

Wincing from the reverberation, Perry rubbed his head. He almost yelled at her, but her words replayed in his head.

Perry's cigar fell from his lips.

----------------------------

Respected Reporter Turns Green-Eyed Journalist Bitch!

By: Kat Montgomery

I may not be on the best of terms with The Daily Planet's 'Star Reporter', but I have always respected her work ethic. That is, until I saw her article in the morning edition.

Many have accused this reporter of being a tabloid journalist. While I'll admit to being rather Katty in my reports, but it is, after all, my job. What I level refuse to sink to is printing unsubstantial rumors! I do not sell out my friends, and would never attempt to destroy a promising career simply because I was unable to get into a pair of pants!

Getting the scoop is one thing, Lois, but being a vindictive bitch and humiliating a friend because of jealousy, is another. James Olsen is a good photographer, and despite your little 'crush' on the man of steal, you owe him better. And another thing, I thought you always checked your sources?

While Lois is ruining her journalistic integrity, I, on the other hand, secured an exclusive interview with one of the men involved, Superman Fanclub President, Michael 'Micky' Bay. Talking to him, I must say, while the fan club's president was less than original, he did make it clear it was his fault.

Kat:Who kissed who?

Micky: I don't kiss and tell.

_Yeah right, folks, everyone knows you take an interview with me, you dish._

Kat: Come on, its your fifteen minutes of fame, you know Olsen's Kiss rocked your world.

Micky: I rocked his world!

_Forgive me the cliches, ego stroking is not a subtle art form._

Kat: Excuse me, I thought he kissed you...

Micky: I kissed him, Jimmy was speechless.

Kat: How do you feel about the recent photos of Olsen with Superman?

Micky: I would never- I didn't know Superman and Jimmy Olsen were an item!

Kat:And now?

Micky: Superman is a very busy person, I can be there for Jimmy when he isn't. I don't want to step on any toes, but if Superman wanted to join us…

Okay, so he didn't even suspect? Really, is he the only person in metropolis that doesn't read the tabloid headlines in the supermarket checkout?

When asked if he had reason to believe his attentions would be welcomed: "Well, not in so many words, no, but come on. Jimmy never mentioned a girlfriend, and he always sat next to me. A perfectly eligible man like him, what was I suppose to think?"

All right, this reporter is all for going after your man or woman, but generally, asking them out on a date; a late night, drunken phone call; or even a gift is acceptable. Trying to eat someone's face is not a good way to start a relationship! No body likes a sloppy kisser.

When I brought this up, "but he didn't say no," was the reply. Come on ladies and gentlemen, how many times have we heard that one? How many times has that been the lame ass justification given? If it doesn't stop a sexual harassment case or a cuff carrying cop, you think a street wise reporter is going to buy it? Really, he could have given me more creative quotes, but he didn't, so this reporter works with what she has.

Besides, even if the alien wedding fantasies of all Metropolis' single women have died, the replacement erotic dreams concerning two of Metropolis' cutest men together are much more satisfying! Wouldn't you agree ladies? After all, while we can't have them, we can still watch.

Final thought to Lois: Draw in your claws, bitch, before you lose them!

[For full interview, see morning edition, Lifestyle and Entertainment.

----------------------------

Slamming the shirts from his dresser in to the suitcase, Clark emptied the last of his drawers. Closing the case, he slammed the locks shut hard enough for them to imbed themselves in the wood. It didn't matter, after this trip, the suitcase would never be used again. Tossing the drawer back at the dresser was very tempting, even if only to finally break something.

Despite his obvious outrage over the story, Clark had kept a level head over his packing. Precious things thrown about didn't last long. At least most of his furniture could handle a little abuse. Speaking of which, most of it would have to stay in Metropolis for now, he would come back for what he wanted later.

The phone ringing distracted him from his packing. In a huff, he stomped over and picked up the handset. Turning it on, he growled his greeting. "This had better be good."

"Oh?" Martha's voice had an edge to it that immediately caused Clark to curb his anger. "Now, I know I never taught you never to answer the phone like that, young man. That city has done caused enough trouble without warping the manners I instilled in you."

Sighing, Clark pulled off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, mom, it's just, I'm really upset right now." Pulling two fingers through his hair, he fixed it before setting his glasses on the bedside table.

"Oh, Clark, tell me you didn't do anything rash. I knew something bad would happen when you didn't ask for seconds before rushing off this morning." Even over the phone, her voice carried a worrying tone that caused him to duck his head.

"I quit my job at the Planet, mom." He could hear her sudden intake in breath and knew what was coming before she spoke.

"Clark..." Stopping, Martha closed her eyes. "Was there no other way?"

"I couldn't work there any more, it didn't feel right." Walking out of his bedroom, he headed in to the living room. "The things Lois wrote in that article, to deliberately go on like that, it was beyond acceptable. And then, Perry, I mean Mr. White, he let her publish it and wasn't the least bit repentant about it! Probably too busy salivating over the money they were raking in over slandering my name! They're no better than Lex Luthor!"

"Clark, now you know that isn't true." She sounded practically scandalized.

"Well, it might as well be." Shifting the phone to his other ear, Clark plopped down on his sofa. It really was a nice apartment, he didn't want to leave it behind. "Mom, I just feel so violated. I mean, I've worked so hard to build up this reputation, to make people feel they can trust me. That's all gone now, they took away my good name. I'm no longer Superman, but that alien caught in a sex scandal."

"Honey, you're still you, no matter what anyone says."

"Yeah, well, I don't feel it. At least not right now, anyways." Clark let his head fall back against the back of his couch. Arm spread over the cushion, he flexed his fingers in the fabric. He had picked it up brand new, the first piece he ever bought himself for himself. "Mom, I gotta favor to ask you."

"Yes, Clark. Your old room is ready, it hasn't changed since this morning." Now, she was amused.

"Thanks, mom. I appreciate this. It will only be for a couple days, just until I can get a reasonable place in town." Stretching out further, Clark reveled in the feel of the couch. He never really took the time before, but now that he was, it was damned comfortable.

"Of course, hon. I'll tell your father. He's out picking up chickens from old Madam Gertrude Weinstock. She's finally decided to sell off her breeding stock and you know how your father's coveted them."

Smiling, Clark nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. "I remember. The Petite Town Cafe was the only place she would sell too."

"Yes, well, Jonathan has finally gotten his blasted chickens." Laughing, Martha ended with a wistful sigh. "Things have changed these past nine years, Clark. If you stay long enough to see it all, I'm not sure how much you will recognize."

"I've seen it all. It's nothing new to me." Blinking, he realized it had indeed been just a year shy of a decade since he had left home. "I just..." He cleared his throat, something seeming to make breathing hard. "With what happened today, it's made me realize what I've left behind. Mom, I'm ready to come home."

"All right." She was all warmth and caring over the phone by now. "Clark, one more thing. Have you spoken with your friend since this happened? You are a beloved figure, Clark, this could be dangerous for him. I've seen what happens when someone is implicated in a scandal."

Sitting up, Clark stared ahead wide eyed. "No, mom, I hadn't even thought about it. I mean, him."

"Well, you've got some free time, you might check in on him. See that he is all right."

"Okay, mom. I'll do that." Rising to his feet, Clark headed back to his bedroom. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, Clark. I'll see you tonight."

"See you tonight." Turning off his phone, Clark put it back in the cradle. While he was thinking about it, he switched it over to no rings so that it wouldn't go on while he was away.

For a moment, he debated putting on the suit, but decided against it. The last thing he or Jimmy needed was to give a trigger happy photographer more ammo. Instead, he slipped on a dark wool jacket he'd had stuffed in the back of his closet since he moved in. On his way out, he didn't notice he forgot his glasses.


	4. Goosey Loosey's Beguile

------------Goosey Loosey's Beguile-----------

The door to his apartment was hanging off its hinges when he returned. The graffiti from that morning had been added to and spread inside. Deciding that whatever might lie in his apartment should fear him more than he it, Jimmy stepped over the mess of burnt bags of dog shit that littered the entrance.

Inside was worse. Utter devastation was the only thing that would come to mind. His meager furniture had been trashed. The television laid in ruins, spread across the living room. Bits of upholstery and cushion had rained down over dishes, shredded clothes, and the remains of breakfast nook. The only sign of his pictures and articles that once decorated the walls were burnt glass and ashes in the far corner.

Stumbling over something he didn't care to identify, Jimmy made his way to his bedroom. The wall hanging had been torn off and was now strewn over the kindling that had been his bedroom set. What he came for, however, was still intact. It seemed the vandals hadn't been able to get inside his wall safe. Though not from lack of trying if the scratches over it were to go by.

Taking the key off a necklace around his neck, he inserted it in the safe. After he twisted it and opened the main panel, he was presented with a control panel. He entered in the ten digit code and stood back. Where he had been standing, a thin metal tower rose up from the floor. The wood slats settled on top split down the center, ejecting his metallic case.

Jimmy quickly grabbed the case and slipped it in to his bag. Walking over to the wall safe again, he entered in a second code. This time a panel in the wall across from it slid back an inch with a hiss. He crossed to the panel and pushed it sideways to reveal another inset chamber. Inside, he grabbed the suit case and hanging garment bag.

Throwing the garment bag over his arm, he grabbed the suit case with his free hand. Walking back to the housing of the floor safe, he pulled the wooden slat off. A handle popped up from the hidden compartment. His hand shook as he wrapped sweaty fingers around the gun hilt. Pulling it out, he stuffed in to his courier bag along with the two extra clips.

Sealing his bag, he adjusted the garment bag back over his arm and walked out of the apartment.

He had an appointment to keep.

-----------------------------

A quick flip through the phone book told Clark where Jimmy lived. The trek across the city had given him time to put together several possibilities for a conversation. He would be sympathetic, justifiably angry for his friend, outraged for Superman, dignified in his stance against Lois. There were many topics and emotions he could have taken. Unfortunately, they all flew from his mind the moment he reached Jimmy's building.

Many of the surfaces were now covered in homophobic, anti-Jimmy rhetoric. The security door on the front had been scorched by more than one exploding bottle of burning gasoline, and subsequently put out. By the looks of the bricks around the ground windows, fire escape, and security door, people had tried to get in unsuccessfully. The surrounding streets and alleys were covered burning trash, over turned shopping carts, bombed out cars, and even a half dented dumpster that had been used as a makeshift battering ram.

Clark stood there staring at it in stunned horror for a few minutes. It was a scene out of war movie. Who would have done this? Any moment now, he expected jack-booted soldiers to come marching through.

Foregoing the security of his identity, Clark rounded the corner and floated up to Jimmy's window. The sheer destruction inside made him drop a foot in surprise. He quickly scanned the contents of the building looking for a body. Clark half expected to find him dead among the rubble.

What he found didn't fill him with much hope. The bedroom held a high tech security system which had been left open and deactivated. The contents of a vault he could see were gone. Frowning, he scanned the rest of the building to make sure no one needed his assistance. There was no one else inside, which made a little sense to him given the level of chaos.

Letting himself fall back to the ground, he scanned the rest of the block for people. There were a few two buildings over, but the rest of the block was abandoned. Shaking his head, Clark walked down the street to a payphone in front of a locked down bodega. Picking it up, he hit nine-one-one.

The line rang three times before an operator picked up. "Yes?"

"Hello?" His frown grew at the woman's attitude. "I would like to report a crime."

"Listen, we done told everyone out on Zelincia Avenue to evacuate. If you've been robbed, go to the precinct house on Broquero and Tine to report it with documentation of what was taken. A sargent will take your statement. Don't hold your breath, though, that place is a black hole."

"Now, wait a minute!" Actively glaring at the phone as if it were at fault, Clark squeezed the handset. "My friend Jimmy Olsen's building and apartment have been nearly destroyed."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Jimmy Olsen, as in James Olsen?" Her voice was practically livid over the line.

"Yes, that would be..." He stared in shock as the line went dead. Never in all his life had he thought something like this possible. This went against everything he had ever believed in or been taught. It just wasn't done.

Getting over his shock, he felt his anger from earlier resurface. They were no better than Lois, the whole lot of them! Closing his eyes, he forced himself to spit out that thought. It wasn't right, it wasn't who he was. Just because a few bad apples ruined for everyone doesn't mean everyone was rotten.

Jimmy. He had to think about Jimmy.

Leaving the phone hanging, Clark picked up his pace. He scanned entire city blocks with the sweep of his eyes. There was a lot of ground to cover and something told him he hadn't much time.

-----------------------------

Even though more modern by any standards than the offices of the Daily Planet, the Editorial Desk of the Metropolis Rising Star was cold and sterile in comparison. From his time as a beat reporter for the planet, he had grown accustomed to a warmer environment. The Star lacked the welcoming air that made him comfortable. It was a staggering difference that left him hollow and soulless.

A shiver ran up the spine of managing editor Sean Dilaby as he stepped off the elevator. Chuckling to himself, he tugged on the tie that had become part of his signature uniform. Earning three times the money his chief rivals at the planet made up for any lack of personal touches the Star's office held. Leaving was a decision he had never regretted in the ten years since until that morning.

A copy of the morning edition of the Daily Planet under his arm, he waved off a passing mail clerk. The boy had stars in his eyes ever since he got the job. It was a damn good thing his internship was over in another week. There were people milling about whom he knew had no business on the top floor other than to gossip. From their tones, he knew they were discussing the paper he held.

It wasn't a surprise, they had barely sold a single copy today. He wasn't worried, though, it was to be expected. The Daily Planet had gotten a better scoop, they usually did. What was a sex sting scandal involving the governor's daughter in comparison to a sex scandal involving Superman?

Nope. He wasn't worried. The planet should have been, though, since they didn't have anything that could possibly top that. And with the way they had alienated the resident extra terrestrial, it wasn't like they were going to get the chance ever again. It was one hell of a story to go out on, ending a career as prosperous and wondrous as Perry White's, but he wasn't aware the man had intended to retire. "Way to shoot yourself in the foot, Perry."

Smiling, he made gun with his hand and shot at a passing reporter. She was a good food critic, a much better Dom, but that wasn't something most people knew. She wacked him on the ass with stack of papers as he passed, making sure everyone saw. Yes, definitely a Dom.

Laughing to himself, he rounded the final corner of the marble and steel halls to come upon his secretary's office. She was busy flicking the keys on her keyboard in a annoyed manner, letting him know she had taken another call from one of the board members. He smiled for her, giving her a wide berth just in case she decided to lay in to him. Lucky enough, he made it in to his office without being accosted by her.

Unfortunately, the moment he was in the door slammed shut of its own volition, scaring the hell out of him. Jumping back, he dropped the paper. He took a moment to compose himself as he saw the automatic door opener light wink out. Someone else was in his office, someone who had gotten past Sheryl. Either his secretary was in on it, or she was losing her edge.

Turning around, he glanced over his shadowed office. The only light visible in the room came from the tiny space between his curtains and the window sill. Still, it was enough to make out the figure making itself at home in his desk chair, legs propped up on his blotter. Adjusting his buckle, he started towards the desk. "Stilettos, my favorite. Are you a gift from Frank in marketing, or did my ex-wife's attorney send me another summons?"

Clicking on the glass lamp behind him, Jimmy cocked his head to the side. A cascade of curls half covered his face as they slid down his neck. Pressing his lips together, he grinned. "As much fun as it might be jerking you along," his voice went from breathy to a false deep, "I've come on business matters."

"Olsen." Eyes traveling up Jimmy's legs, Sean shook his head. He exhaled in a rush. "Damn! How in the hell did you get a figure like that?"

"Silicon molding and garment tape." Smirking, Jimmy slid one leg up then unfolded them from the desk. Not feeling like playing head games, he stood up and came around the desk.

"What is the meaning of this?" Taking in the full effect of Jimmy's outfit, Sean let himself have another moment of fantasy before getting down to business. "Not that I'm complaining. It just seems ridiculous."

"A little insurance. I've seen how often Lois Lane gets kidnapped, shot at, and or tied up." Grabbing the purse slapping against his waist, Jimmy jerked the zipper back. He winced as the material tore from the action, then pulled out the slim metal case. "I could also say me too, but the only times I seemed to get hurt is when that bitch... when Lois is involved." His jaw twitched where a bruise had formed behind a caking of concealer.

"I know the feeling, boy, do I know." Snickering, he wandered over to Jimmy. "What ya got there?"

"When I called you Friday, I told you I had something big. The only reason I didn't bring this to you immediately when I learned you would hear me out was, because, at the time, I was still hoping to convince Mr. White." Handing over the metal case, Jimmy let his purse fall back. "That is no longer a concern."

"Yeah, well, his loss is my gain." He examined the outside of the case for a moment before slipping it under his arm. "Before we get on with this, I want to negotiate your contract."

"There isn't going to be a contract." Frowning, Jimmy resettled the purse on higher on his shoulder. "You are going to print this story, and then I go back to the Planet."

"You think you have a job with them after his morning?" Sean started to laugh, but the quelling look the man gave him made him bury it. He would laugh later. Right now, he would use this naivety to his advantage. "All right, then. We'll run this, whatever it is, no questions asked, so long as you give me an exclusive in reaction to Lois' article."

"That isn't going to happen!" Fists clenched, Jimmy closed his eyes and turned away. This wasn't going the way it was supposed to. Opening them again, he refused to meet Sean's face. "We had a deal, Mr. Dilaby. Either you agree to hear me out on this article and decide whether you will print it, or I walk right now."

Sean clutched the case tightly. "Now, just wait a minute. I am offering you a better deal. You get your story published, full page, even if it turns out to be a fluff piece..." As Jimmy reached inside his purse, Sean caught sight of metal in the lamp light and took a step back.

Pulling out a wetnap, Jimmy tore it open and scrubbed the cloth over his face. Turning around as he removed a large part of the concealer, he raised his chin so Sean could see. "Take a good, long look at my face. I have an entire city hounding after my blood because I dare to be friendly with Superman."

He couldn't tell which stunned him more, the sudden change in Jimmy's appearance or the fact he didn't suspect. Swallowing, Sean had to clutch at the guest chair to ground himself. "I didn't think, an' I'm sorry."

"I have lost my home, everything I owned. My good name and reputation are shot to hell; all because Lois Lane was jealous." Turning the wetnap over, Jimmy ran it over the other side of his face. When he was through, he wadded it up and tossed it over his shoulder. He didn't care where it landed. "Frankly, I don't give a damn how much damage I do with this article any more."

Eyeing Jimmy's face, Sean felt himself nod. "Very well. Let's see what you have." Slipping passed Jimmy, Sean went around his desk and sat down in his chair. It still smelled of Chanel. Turning on his desk lamp, he put the case down and examined the seam of the case. On the handle, he found a twelve digit key pad. "What's the code?"

"Eight-five-five-eight." Sitting down gently, Jimmy slid off his purse. From inside the bag, he pulled out a small make up case and a hand mirror. The much liter bag was gently set on the floor and he began to reapply his makeup.

Entering the code, Sean fingered open the case. There were papers containing familiar red ink stamps bound with paper clips. Fliers and small posters were bound in a folder. Pictures accompanied official documents with graphs in status reports. Looking it over, he frowned. "What is this?"

"You tell me." A final dab of concealer rubbed in to his cheek, Jimmy raised and lowered his face to check for flaws. "It's all there, any corroboration you want can be found on the streets."

Flipping through a stack of surveillance photos, Sean shivered. "I want this, but I need more."

"I don't have the time or resources. What you see is all I got..." Jimmy trailed off as Sean held up a hand.

"I need another article. We can handle the resources and fact checking, but I need your side of the story." Scrubbing a hand over the knee of his pants, Sean squeeze it until the last drops of moisture were absorbed in to the fabric. "If I post this article without a rebuttal from you, we will lose a certain critical amount of credibility. This will come across as little more than the ravings of a bitter ex."

Understanding didn't mean Jimmy felt any better about the truth. Closing his eyes, he nodded. "I didn't want to. Superman's my friend and I owe everything I have to the Planet...everything I had." Gritting his teeth, Jimmy opened his eyes and nodded at Sean. "You will get the article."

"Good. Now, where are you staying? You're already on people's shit list, but after this article hits the streets..." He finished with a shake of his head. "We've got an executive suite on the tenth floor. Extra guards can be here in twenty, people I know won't be bothered by this article."

Jimmy was about to protest, but as he opened his mouth, the muscles started to ache. Reaching up, he stopped just short of touching his skin. "I guess I can't stay in the city, can I? But, I don't want to stay here like some princess in a tower either."

"I understand." Sean sat back. Lacing his fingers together, he shook his head. "I don't know how long you can keep up that disguise, but the longer you do, the more chances you'll slip up. We both know what will happen then. Until today, I'd have thought... Stay here tonight, tomorrow, we'll come up with something."

"Yeah." Closing his eyes, Jimmy turned away. "Something."

-----------------------------

By the time the tops of half the buildings on the upper west side had lit up, drowning out the early rising stars, Clark had to admit defeat. There was nothing he could do for it, Metropolis was simply too big. Jimmy was a smart kid, he had survived twenty-one years on the streets. Since he obviously didn't want to be found, there was nothing anyone could do to flush him out.

It just galled Clark that the young man was alone in this.

Lois should never have written the article! For that matter, Perry shouldn't have printed it. The entire thing was pure lies based upon rumors and the bare minimum of circumstances. The fact that people believed it was another absurd problem. How little did they think of him to believe that garbage?

That they would do something so a grievous to one of his friends spoke poorly of their character. Those kind of people weren't what he had been raised to believe in, let alone stand up for. Remembering the destruction, Clark wasn't even sure he wanted to any more.

The loud ringing of church bells announcing the time drew him from his search and revery. Glancing to his wrist watch, Clark noted the time with a sigh. He didn't have the strength to put if off any longer, having delayed for three more hours for his friend. With quick glance to make sure no person or camera was paying attention, Clark dashed down a nearby alley.

A second later, Superman rose up from the dank recesses of Metropolis' Suicide Slums. Ignoring the cries and sharp calls his sudden presence elicited, he pushed one hand out in front of him. For the sake of his own conscious, he did a sweep of every building for ten blocks around Jimmy's. There was no sign of his friend he hadn't already found.

Closing his eyes, he rose higher in the sky. A news chopper buzzed near, trying to level off and capture him in the spot light. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his legs tight out behind his body and shot off. The wind caused the chopper to bank and shimmy as the pilot struggled to regain control.

He didn't care, they could all go to hell. Clamping down on every instinct which told him thinking like that would only lead to trouble, he set course for home.

-----------------------------

Flaming Presses: Burning Down Metropolis

By: Jimmy Olsen

Bombed out cars, shattered windows, graffiti, and evacuations; all have turned an entire neighborhood into a war zone, and for what, rumors? This is an age when we like to pride ourselves on tolerance, and, in the past, we had good reason. After all, we accept an alien on a daily basis, how much more tolerant can you get? But, for a lie, the public's perceptions of tolerance were thrown into an uproar this week.

It appears society is still only tolerant of differences when it fits into its preconceived norms. Apparently the ideals of privacy and sexual freedom are still just given lip service. People are politically correct, at least up until their sensibilities are offended, then it is back to an 'us against them' mentality.

Dare to question or cast their hero in any form of what they perceive as a negative light, then chaos and hate ensue. Respected journalists turn into vindictive, spiteful creatures. Their code of ethics, professional integrity, and reputation get sacrificed on the altar of spiteful jealousy and the all mighty dollar.

A perfect example: The Daily Planet had the distinction of record setting sales. Congratulations for moving circulars with a biased and completely unchecked article on the sexuality of Metropolis' favorite alien, the likes of which comes straight out of a check-out rack impulse rag. Set aside the fact there was no evidence, no proof, and focus solely on the sensationalism. After all, Superman's sex life can have no expectation of privacy.

For the record, this reporter/photographer, has never had a romantic and/or sexual relationship with Superman. The pictures featured in Lois Lane's article were taken during the course of a private conversation with The Man of Steel.

A quote taken from an interview with Superman; "If people would just focus on what they care about, I believe there would be no mobs," seems naive in light of current events.

-----------------------------

Super Friends or Super Frauds?

By: Jimmy Olsen

The public has always been fascinated with Metropolis's own crape crusader. Recently however this reporter has been forced to ask: "Has the public's fascination with the much beloved alien gone too far?"

Fliers advertising "The Friends of Superman" canvas Metropolis' streets. At first glance, these innocuous posters simply advertise a new neighborhood watch group. But, is this group doing more than simply capitalizing on the good well generated by Superman's name?

Members of this so called 'neighborhood watch' have been involved in several civic disturbances in the past weeks. They frequently perform citizen's arrests on anything from a purse snatcher to a car jacking. These actions would be admirable, if they stopped there, but sources tell this reporter that the club's members have not been content at simply stopping these perpetrators for now. Most of them have been found dead. Irrefutable evidence that an overzealous 'watchdog' actually committed the murder is swept under the rug.

Sources within the Metropolis' Police Department had this to say when questioned: "The death of these criminals is regrettable, but considering the great help that members of 'Friends of Superman' have been to this police force, and especially the community, a little excessive force can be forgiven. After all, it was self defense."

Questions about the exceedingly large amount of 'self-defense' rulings handed out were not replied to by Judiciary. Has the moniker 'Superman' become a get out of jail free card?

Editors' note: Neither Superman or representatives from "Friends of Superman" could be contacted in reguards to this article at the time of its publishing. This paper stands by the validity of its reporters and their sources.

**Tomorrow: Superman Mania: Fans Of or Cult Following?**

-----------------------------

Unfolding the morning edition of the Metropolis Rising Star, the cigar dropped from Perry's mouth. Front page, center, the picture of a burned out car in front of a ravaged building sent a chill up his spine. Despite the damage, he immediately recognized the building. Glancing to the corresponding article, he felt his blood pressure sky rocket and his jaw clench. Folding the paper in half, he stood up from the breakfast table.

Looking up from the piece of toast she was buttering, Alice raised an eyebrow. "Perry?"

"I've got something to take care of at the office. I'll probably be home later than usual." Grabbing his jacket, Perry didn't slow down until he was climbing in to his Lincoln. Once the car was started, he threw it in reverse and spun out of his driveway.

With a sigh of disgust, Alice took a bite of her toast.

-----------------------------

Up before dawn. Yawning, Clark wondered why he thought coming back to his family farm was so great. There was nothing wonderful about getting up at five in the morning to slop pigs or feed chickens. When he was through there, he had to go take a large bale of hay to the cows and horses. Not the rectangle kind either, the huge hay wheel.

It wasn't until he was on his way in from the back pasture, the smell of bacon in the air, that his memory was jogged. Jeans tore in several places, white tank top with more holes than swiss cheese, he knew his mother would sooner hit him with a spoon than let him sit down to eat breakfast in those clothes. Ruffling his hair to knock the dust and hay from it, he raced up the front steps and in to the house.

His father was already at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading a news paper. It was too early for the Daily Planet, so it had to be another rival. "What's that you're reading, dad?"

"The Metropolis Rising Star. It was dropped off here from a courier, straight from Kansas City." Setting his mug down, John turned in his chair to look at Clark. "There's something I think you should read."

"I will after I take a quick shower. I smell like Betsy and Pamela, those old cows still haven't learned they aren't dogs." Scrunching his nose, he took the stairs up to his room at a slightly slower pace. Still, he made enough noise to echo through out the house.

Shaking her head, Martha rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. He hadn't yet, but one day he might just fall through.

-----------------------------

Outside the Daily Planet, the mob of reporters from the day before had increased three fold. Many of them looked as if they had been there all night. Not caring to deal with them, Perry kept driving until he pulled around the corner and took the back entrance. The DP's private lot for employees usually left dings in the cars from inept drivers, but it also had a private entrance. Pulling in to his reserved spot, he barely had the car in park before he was out the door.

The loud hum of the morning's presses drowned out all other noise, including the grinding of his teeth. It was barely five a.m., they would be printing for the next twenty minutes. The papers would be out on the streets five minutes later, and ten minutes after that, spread across half the city. Ordinarily, he would be proud of their efficiency, but it only served to piss him off more today.

By the time he climbed aboard the elevator to take him to the lobby, he was certain there was steam rising from his ears. Stepping through the doors, he wasn't surprised to find the lobby filled with reporters. Ten steps across the elevator banks brought him to the main lifts. He hit the button, ignoring the cries from the reporters clamoring for his attention. When it arrived, he stepped on and hit the door close button.

The elevator tried to play a lite selection of music, but that stopped the moment he put his fist through the speaker. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it was a good pain. Feeling a little better, he was no longer grinding his teeth when the elevator opened on the seventh floor. Stepping off, he found the newsroom eerily quiet.

There were a few people milling about, just night mail clerks, but no one else. Apparently he was the only one on the staff who received the Rising Star. He chose to believe that over the fact that they might not be coming in today. The empty desk by the water cooler made him pause. Perry cast a quick glance to his office door handle, before looking back to the desk.

His sense of outrage deflated immensely.

The journey to his office was made at a more sedate pace. At the door, he fingered the handle for a bit, testing the grooves. He squeezed on a whim and found it very much solid. A shudder ran through him and he turned it to open the door.

Perry dropped the Star on his desk and wrote a note to himself to have the handle replaced. On his desk were a dozen post-it notes with numbers. Pink phone message slips littered the blotter like used tissues. Not a single one held the name or number of anyone he wished to talk to. Picking up his waste basket, he swept the entire mess in to it.

He pulled off his coat and threw it over the coat tree. Wandering over to his side board, he pulled open the cabinet door, then took out a whiskey bottle and shot glass. Sitting them on his desk, he eased his tired frame in to the desk chair. For several minutes, he contemplated the bottle. It was a bad habit, drinking this early, but right now, he couldn't find a single reason why.

Perry's contemplation of the clear liquid was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Startled, he picked up before he remembered he wasn't talking to anyone today. Since it was already to his ear, he took a long breath. "Hello?"

"Chief."

Perry would recognize that voice any where. He made several aborted attempts before he replied. "What do you want, Jimmy?"

"To explain."

"Don't bother. I'm sure you had your reasons, and to you, they might even be valid." Grabbing the bottle, Perry pulled out the stopper with his teeth. Spitting it in the general direction of the waste ben, he filled the shot glass. "So let's just cut to the chase, you're fired. I'll have personnel mail your final check."

Gripping the handset precisely, he firmly placed it back in to the cradle. For several seconds, he once again contemplated the bottle of whiskey. Grabbing the neck between two fingers, he snarled and threw it across the room.

-----------------------------

Staring at the handset in shock, Jimmy blinked many times before what had happened registered to him. Even when he understood the words, the idea behind them were very much alien. He couldn't have heard what he thought he heard. It was just impossible. Mr. White would never fire him.

Eventually, the busy signal coming over the phone speaker made him put it back in the cradle. Breathless, he put his thumb nail between his front teeth. Before he realized it, he was shaking his head in denial. He had to try three times before he could make himself stop.

"It, just, doesn't make any sense." Even the sound of his own voice was unbelievable in his ears. The world wasn't real. This was all just some big night mare, a disgusting practical joke. It couldn't be happening.

He hadn't really lost everything.

Sitting back on the couch, Jimmy drew his knees up against his chest. Closing his eyes, he started to rock, head shaking no. It didn't happen. Couldn't happen. Things like this never really happened to people, only in soap operas and dime store novels. He still had a job.

He still had a job.

He still had a job.

-----------------------------

Sean Dilaby was on top of his news paper, looking down to the top of the world. He was soaring high, nothing could touch him, not even superman. Drunk on success, and quite possibly a little bourbon, he spun his office chair from side to side.

Outside his office window, Metropolis was coming to life. His papers were flying off news stands and market shelves. Like the Daily Planet the day before, he was seeing record sales. Unlike the Daily Planet, he had a guaranteed selling point for tomorrow's morning edition as well. With the information he had bargained for from Jimmy, he had enough for an entire week's worth of top grossing papers.

Damn it was good to be him some times.

A quick look to his phone showed all his lines were still lit. The message tally had flicked to triple digits and was slowly rising. If he didn't make a announcement soon, the restless natives would probably storm the keep. Snickering over the image of reporters climbing his building, he stood up.

Sean had to catch himself on the desk as he started to topple over. So may be he was more than just a little drunk on bourbon. That was okay, he'd been up all night, so the rule of no drinking before nine am didn't really count. Humming to himself, he checked his appearance in the mirror. He could use a shower, but that was beyond him at the moment.

He supposed he could go down to the executive suite and take a quick one. There was a set of clothes for him to change in to down there as well. When a smelly burp erupted past his lips, he figured it best to at least take a shower before hand. Didn't want to come across as a drunk when he made his statement to the rest of the news media.

Staggering out of his office, he gave a quick salute to his secretary and stumbled down the hallway to the elevator.

-----------------------------

The first thing Lois did when she read the cover of the Rising Star over while holding her breakfast burrito was squeeze the stuffing out of it. In a rage, she threw it at the kitchen wall. Throwing the paper in the opposite direction, she immediately regretted the action when it bounced off her aquarium. After she checked to make sure her fish were all right, she ran to her bedroom.

For the hundredth time in the past month, she was grateful the annoying brat that deigned to call itself her sister had moved out. That meant her silk and leather strappy number was still hanging in her closet. Above all other outfits, the bad girl, slutty ensemble had served her best in gathering information. No heterosexual male had a defense against the redirected flow of blood.

As she teased the curlers from her hair, Lois knew she wasn't the only one to come up with the idea. There would no doubt be stiff competition, the thought of which made her grin. The last of her hair artfully arranged, she applied copious amounts of red lipstick, eye liner, and enough rouge to highlight her cheek bones. The perfect Bon Jovi video slut stared back at her from the mirror, a decade out of fashion, though.

Grabbing her leather jacket from the hangar in her closet, she slipped it on. Grabbing her purse, she transferred the contents from her normal black bag to the jean one, including two recorders. A pair of black suede pumps, stiletto, completed the outfit. It would kill her by noon, but if her hunches were correct, then Jimmy's moment of fame would be so much dust.

No body out scooped her!

-----------------------------

In the main lobby of the Metropolis Rising Star, well over a hundred reporters and their crews had gathered. The noise from their idle chatter echoed terribly, upsetting the most sensitive of ears. Thankfully, most were use to it, and could ignore the conversations they didn't want to be part of. Therefore, it came as no surprise when they all fell silent at the ding of the elevator just before the doors opened.

A collective drawing of breath echoed in the silence as two security personnel stepped off the lift first. They did a quick scan of the room, checking with their counter parts across the lobby. When the were certain, they nodded to someone still in the car. The next moment, Sean and two more people stepped out.

He held up a hand and waved cheerfully. An explosion of questions erupted from the crowd. Walking up the three steps to the small stage, he motioned for them to quiet down. "Please be seated. Let me make my statement, and then I will answer your questions."

Reluctantly, most of the crowd did as they were told. The camera men at the back of the lobby kept hold of their cameras, zooming in on Sean.

Feeling more in control, Sean took a moment to make sure his hair was still smoothed back. Taking a moment, he sized up the crowd, and felt his pride swell. They were there to see and hear him speak, and he was going to give them only enough to get them to buy tomorrow's paper. "All right, let me just start off by saying, everything we printed in this morning's edition was completely true."

The expected eruption was silent except for the snapping of cameras and the scratching of pencils on paper. A nervous edge fluttered through the crowd of reporters.

"I have no idea why the Daily Planet printed their article, all I can say is I am grateful. Not for the harm it has caused to two very nice individuals, or the city they call home, but that it gives me a chance to tell a story ordinarily never heard. In so doing, it also gave me first pick at an article highlighting a growing, frightening trend." As he finished speaking, Sean was once again grateful for the drama lessons forced upon him in college as part of the 'well rounded education'. "It is our hope, that with these articles, we can circumvent any future injustices and right the ones already happening. I will now answer your questions." Sean pointed at a person randomly in the crowd.

Rising from her seat at the front, a blonde woman with a channel seven, LNN microphone, smiled. "Hi, Brenda Adams-Smith with LNN." Taking a moment for her picture to be captured by every flash camera, she smiled again. "What proof do you have that can confirm anything you've printed?"

Smirking, Sean winked at her. "Page A-three. There are plenty enough pictures that even the skeptics at LNN will be convinced as to the validity of the true scale of violence. Page A-six reprints excerpts from official police reports. Sworn and signed affidavits from police, civilians, and victims are quoted. We have copies our lawyers can provide if anyone wishes to challenge."

Brenda gave him a smile with the edges turned up a little too far. "Thank you, we will be in touch." Taking her seat, she once again posed for photos.

Raising his hand, Sean used his fingers to point to someone in the middle of the audience.

Standing, the immaculately dressed woman raised a leather billfold. Flipping it open, she revealed her badge. "My name is Hellen King, I am with the district attorney's office."

Straightening his posture, Sean's smile dimmed. "What can I do for you, Ms. King?"

"I have come on behalf of D.A. Mathers. Giving the striking evidence you presented, it would seem many among the police force can not be trusted with this situation." Her words sent a thrill through the gathered press. Ignoring their whispers, she raised her chin. "We wish to speak with Mr. Olsen in person. I am here to ensure his safety."

"Forgive me," Sean's smile went up a notch, "but I doubt you can provide any better protection than what the Metropolis Rising Star is currently offering."

"So, Mr. Olsen is here, that correct?" Her tone was light and inquiring, but her expression hardened.

Sean cast an amused glance to the woman over his shoulder before looking back to Ms. King. "In a manner of speaking."

Opening her suit jacket, she started to slide the badge back in to her pocket. "That's all I needed to hear." When she pulled her hand out, a small cylinder was clutched between her fingers.

Nodding, Sean looked else where for another speaker.

-----------------------------

Glaring at the radio, Perry almost chucked the damn thing out the window. Instead, he and the rest of the senior staff were listening to the press conference in the conference room. Over to his right, Kat was busy tending her nails between sending death glares to Lois. The other reporter had come in with a red welt around her eye that was quickly darkening in to a bruise.

"You are most welcome, Ms. King. Now, who's next?" The smug voice of Sean came through loud and clear over the radio.

If it hadn't been ten years, nothing could have kept Perry in his chair. But, his second best reporter leaving for a rival paper had happened a decade ago and his wife's therapist told him to let it go. He'd let it go, when hell froze over and winged monkeys flew out of his ass. The man would get what was coming to him one day.

Sean's laugh came over the speaker, booming and raucous. "Yes, the woman from Channel Eig..."

A loud hiss of static echoed over the speaker. Half a heart beat later, before anyone could react to the sudden change, the entire building shook violently.

Thrown from his seat, Perry clutched at the table as he impacted against it. Cries of shock and pain filled the room as people were tossed about. A second later, the windows exploded inwards with a deafening roar.

-----------------------------

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Clark took a moment to admire his handy work. It had been eight years since he last stacked hay. He had forgotten how seeing things a menial as this completed made him feel. It was a wonderful experience to simply be Clark Kent: Farm Boy once more. No one expected too much from him, and everyone knew everyone's business, so secrets weren't something to be kept.

The worn old pair of overalls he wore were more than a bit cliched, but it was one of the few clothes his mother hadn't thrown out or given away. The latter of which mainly because no one around there wore them any more. The deliberate rip in the knees spoke of just how long ago they had gone out of fashion. At least they fit, unlike the other two pairs of pants his mother had saved.

If he was going to keep his modesty hidden, as his grand mother used to say, he was going to have to head back to Metropolis soon. He would get the clothes he could use on the farm, and leave the others for another time. In the mean while, he had another three bales needing stacking before he could call it a job well done.

Grabbing the ropes holding the bale together, he positioned them in the center of his gloves. If it had been twine, they would have snapped in an instant from the weight. When he was relatively certain he could now pick up, Clark strained backwards, easily raising the monstrous load off the ground. Then he dropped it, hands shooting to cover his ears.

Falling to his knees as the wave of pure noise washed over him, Clark squeezed his eyes shut. It continued on for several seconds as more and more explosions joined the initial blast. By the time the last concussion had passed, his ears were ringing and he was on his back. Blinking up at the roof of his parent's barn, Clark tried to make sense of what had just happened.

It was obvious something some where had blown up. That had to have been in a city, because he recognized the sound of collapsing buildings. In the distance, as his hearing reoriented itself, he could hear people from counties away talking, laughing, crying, screaming. Cars screeched, airplanes roared, even a few trains went shrieking by. But above all this, several gasps could be heard as television stations every where were interrupted by special bullies.

One word was repeated several times. A word he was intimately familiar with.

Climbing to his feet, Clark staggered out of the barn towards the house. He had to get his suit.

Metropolis needed Superman.


	5. Turkey Lurkey's Final Repose

Ducky Lucky's Final Repose

Dust was still rising to the sky in great plumes as he came over the horizon. Smoke blanketed most of the city in a haze as sirens drowned out all other sounds. Helicopters filled the sky like vultures, blanketing out the sun where they hovered. The damage extended as far as he could see.

As Superman closed within ten miles, two more skyscrapers collapsed in a cloud of cement dust. Many of the circling helicopters cleared the area, but the falling spire of a building clipped one not so fortunate. He could only watch in shock as the helicopter exploded midair. The roar of wrenching metal echoed through the streets as the ground shook from the impact.

This latest explosion caused a cacophony of screams that overwhelmed his hearing. Clutching his head, he lost control and dropped fifty feet before he could block them out.

Below him, the roads were jam packed with cars fleeing the city as emergency vehicles shot down the empty roads towards Metropolis.

As he drew near, people began to look up. So many people crying out for him. There were too many of them. He wasn't exactly sure where to begin. It was the coughing that set him to work.

Moving quickly over the center of the destruction, Superman drew his body flat and began to spin in a circle. As he spun, the air shifted direction, sucking the winds over metropolis up. Dust and debris came rolling over the streets towards him. The streets were sucked clean of the cement clouds, which shot high in to the atmosphere.

Rising with the pillar of dust, Superman started to wobble his spin. The pillar began to form an hour glass around him. Suddenly, he stopped. He shot out from the center and flew around the outside. His position shifted degrees as he flew the orbit until the cloud formed a ball. Shrinking his flight path ever quicker, he squeezed the dust until it coalesced in to a solid mass.

Superman grasped the mass between his outstretched hands. Dropping it, he kicked up and hit the ball. The ball of condensed cement dust shot out of the atmosphere.

The air of Metropolis now clean, Superman looked to start his next mission. Under the rubble of those collapsed buildings laid injured and trapped people. He was the only one strong and fast enough to save them. Having removed the dust and knowing what needed to be done next, he felt ready to do his job.

Shooting back down to the city, he was ready to be Superman.

The groaning of girders buried deep within the heart of the Daily Planet Building awoke Perry. Coughing, he gasped for breath in the smoke and dust. He wiped the glass and debris from face, taking stock in his injuries. His left arm was definitely dislocated, and his face was scratched to pieces. Aside from a few joint aches and his back, there was nothing else too serious.

Around him, he could hear the sound of winds blowing through the now open windows. He could hear paper and other light materials fluttering in the breeze. Realizing the windows were open to the world in a place where they should have been fixed, brought the outside world crashing in. Sirens echoed in the briefing room of the Daily Planet.

Perry finally opened his eyes after three tries. It was a moment he would never forget for the rest of his life. Where had been his briefing room was now only destruction. Bodies littered the floor among the remains of the chairs, filing cabinets and the central table. Glass had rained down upon them, shredding those closest to the former panes.

He had to force himself to look away.

Sitting up, he carefully brushed away the glass for a place to put his hand. His body protested the movements. With a groan of pain, he drew his dislocated arm to him. It would have to be reset soon or it would be even worse. While he paused to rest for a minute, he listened for any other sounds of life.

There was nothing.

Closing his eyes, Perry hung his head.

Flipping through the channels, Jonathan kept the television on mute to keep Martha from hearing it. He knew she wouldn't approve of watching the idiot box before breakfast, but his normal paper was late and he had a bet riding with Charlie on the Suns. Speaking of paper, he was carefully avoiding thinking about the articles in the Rising Star. What Clark did was none of his business, and none of the newspaper's either.

He wasn't about to admit he had sighed in relief, though, when the Jimmy person had denied the rumors.

The smell of bacon cooking in the kitchen made him pause to scent the air and revel in it. There were too few mornings where that heavenly odor filled the house. Now that Clark was back for a while, it would be about every morning. That increased his chances of having some despite Martha's and his doctor's warnings.

His revelry was interrupted by the phone ringing. He hoped it wasn't for Clark. The boy seemed happy to be out working in the fields despite his complaints. It would be a shame to have to call him in early, and besides, the chores were being done on time for the first time in three years.

Thinking of which, he glanced up at the clock over the television. Clark had been out in the barn for twenty minutes. If he didn't come back in soon, Martha would send him to get the boy. That would make his chances of getting any of the bacon depreciate because he wasn't the only one filching bacon who shouldn't be.

"Jonathan!" Martha's call rang out in the house.

So startled was he, Jonathan nearly dropped the remote. He was about to shut off the television but Martha came in to the room with the kitchen handset. "Sorry, dear, just looking for a sports report."

"Turn it to LNN." Pale as a ghost, she barely held the phone to her ear for the shaking.

"What is it, Martha?" Alarmed, Jonathan crossed the room to stand beside his wife. He reached out for her, taking her in to his arms. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he held her firmly against his chest. "What is it, dear?"

"Just, turn the channel." She couldn't bring herself to speak. Lowering her face to his shoulder, she dropped the phone.

"All right." Nodding, he held up the remote to the cable box and changed the channel. LNN came on the screen and he turned off the mute.

A woman appeared on the screen, the smoke filled skyline of Metropolis visible in the window behind her. "...probably in the millions. There is no official death toll as of yet, but we can confirm that at least thirty buildings, including the Metropolis Rising Star Spire and Luthor Corp. Towers, have collapsed. The site of a massive explosion, Metropolis is now a disaster zone. New York Governor Tyson is preparing a statement, but there is still no word from Metropolis' Mayor Berkowitz."

"Just a minute." Looking down, the reporter put a hand to her ear. Her eyes went wide. Raising her head, she looked directly in to the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have just received word from my producer. A package has arrived from people claiming to be responsible for the attack. We now go live to the news room where they are playing the tape."

The screen went black. It flashed twice before a familiar shield image appeared on the screen. "We are the Friends of Superman, true to his word. In the past several days, vile..."

Jonathan turned off the television.

6 Months Later.

Clearing his throat, Clark glanced over his glasses at Lois. This was the third time she had shifted in her seat in the past minute. If he wasn't certain it would earn him an earful, he would comment on it. She didn't have to be here, no one would fault her for staying behind. Then again, since when did Lois ever miss an important announcement?

Dropping her pen, Lois looked to Clark in shock. "Oops." With a sly grin, she bent over in her seat. Instead of going for the pen, she reached under her ankle length dress and adjusted the straps on her leg brace. When she had loosened them, she picked up her pen and sat back in her chair. She met Clark's serious expression with a frown. "What?"

"You didn't have to fake it. No one would think any less of you for..." He shut up when she pointed the tip of her pen at his chest. "Okay, never mind."

"That's right, Smallville, and you'd better keep it that way." Another two months and she could move with just her cane. It would be great to get off the crutches, and the cane would be useful for keeping Clark in line. Unfortunately, it would be another six months before she could wear nylons again.

Damned plastic surgeons and their long waiting lists of charity cases! To add to her already foul mood, the idea of plastic surgery brought up thoughts of Kat. That bitch had already consulted with a plastic surgeon before the attack. Since she had an appointment, they had gone ahead with her surgery.

Nearly snapping her pen in half, Lois pushed her hair out of her eyes. That made her smirk. At least her hair was real. Kat had to have hers cut off to save her life. That was one real victory for Lois, at least until Kat's grew back. But she still had the pictures of the other woman looking like a burnt Barbie doll.

Snapping his fingers, Clark drew Lois' attention to him. Despite her scowl, he knew she didn't mean it. Then again, he had snapped at her like a dog. So, she probably meant it. Pushing his glasses up at her, he nodded to the podium. "It looks like they are about to get started."

"Don't ever snap at me again, Clark. They'll have to send in spelunkers to find your fingers where I shove them." Pasting on her professional face, she looked up to the new Mayor and her staff as they walked on to the stage.

Pushing her hair behind her ear, Mayor Ulani unfolded the manilla folder her aide handed to her. She smiled at the gathered crowd of reporters before looking down at it. "Thank you for coming. In the last six months, our great city has come under attack from several of her own citizens. Much to the horror of our people, and the rest of the world, they perpetrated the single greatest act of terrorism in our city's history."

Lois noted the way several people around them shifted uncomfortably. More than one eye was wiped in the ensuing seconds. Much to her embarrassment, her partner was one of them.

After the long pause, the mayor cleared her throat. "It is with great satisfaction I come here to stand before you today." Raising her head, she closed the folder. "After six months of searching, the FBI has located the last member of the original cell of the terrorist organization, F.o.S. Michael Bay has been captured, and those who were protecting him, arrested. At long last, the nightmare is truly over!"

This time, when the mayor paused, loud cheers and applause erupted in the town hall. Lois, in spite of her injury, was one of those on their feet. The fact Clark was helping keeping her steady, she readily ignored. And the stinging in her eyes, that was just the bright lights.

Slipping his hand from under her arm, to around her waist, Clark eased Lois back down to her chair. He cast a quick look to the mayor. When she nodded to him, he took his own seat. So long as she and the others kept his alter ego's name out of it, he would keep his part of the bargain to protect them all.

Stepping off the lift car, Lois pushed passed the gathering of waiting people. Behind her, she could hear Clark protest her actions, but didn't give a damn. She had scored a major scoop from one of the Feebs on the F.o.S. case after the press conference. If she got it, there was no doubt another already on the same trail. She had to get it out first.

Swinging her body out between her crutches, she sped down the new wheelchair ramp in to the newsroom of the Daily Planet. The refurbished offices were like a shinier version of the old ones. The insurance company had pitched a bitch fit over it, and their premiums went through the roof, but it was worth every penny.

Unlike some of the others who had taken the worker's trauma comp whatever, she had put that shit in her past and moved on. She was a journalist, damn it, and there was always a new story to write. Hitting a few toes as she hopped through the desks to her own, she spun and fell in to her waiting desk chair.

Still at the elevators, Clark watched her go with a pang of regret. This wasn't his fault. Nothing that had been done in his name could even remotely possibly pinned on him. Still, it kept him from ever sleeping through a full night. Adjusting his glasses, his eyes fell upon the center banister.

The plaque with the names of every staff member who had died that day was still shiny.

Clenching his jaw, he noted there was one absent. He was distracted by the hint of perfume on the office airflow. Turning to face the source, he found Kat standing beside him. "Hello."

Instead of responding, she gave him a sad smile. Patting his shoulder, she moved passed him and back down in to the news room. Taking the stairs, she caught Lois' gaze and smirked at her. She took each step slowly, kicking out with her newly waxed legs.

Growling, Lois squished the hell out of a stress doll.

Having had enough of the goings on, Perry poked his head out of his office. "All right people, we've got a paper to put out for this afternoon. Alice done told me she's going to kick my butt if I don't leave on time tonight, and I'm taking any of you with me who makes me late!" Much to his satisfaction and pride, his newsroom picked up their pace a little.

There were a lot of familiar names on that damned plate. Most he'd known for years. Speaking of which, Perry straightened up. "Kent, get your butt in here!"

"Coming, chief." Tracing the plate with his fingers, Clark sighed. He wanted to linger a little longer, remembering the people he had known for only a year. It hadn't been that long a time, but it felt like an eternity since they were gone. Putting his hands in his pockets, he took his time walking to Perry's office.

Once the man was inside his office, Perry closed the door behind them. He strolled over behind his desk and took a seat. What he was about to say needed physical support. Pushing his tie down, he decided he had dawdled long enough. "I want to thank you for coming back."

"It was nothing, sir, really. Those were my friends too..." Raising his eyes, Clark caught Perry's gaze. "What is it? Do I have something on my face?"

"I meant, thank you, Superman." Perry let Clark think on that for a minute before he pushed on. There had been too many sad facts lately, he knew the alien man needed a little happiness. "This has been hard on all of us, but you most of all. My part in all of this, I was a catalyst to something so despicable and disgusting, it makes me wonder how I even sleep."

"You're not the only one," Clark said it before he even realized he was going to. Shifting his stance, he cleared his throat. "I'm not certain how you figured it out, but I'm tired of pretending, so I won't bother to deny it. As for coming back, I didn't have a choice. People needed me."

"You're a good man. A lot better than most of us, myself included." Twisting his chair to the right, Perry had to look away from Clark. He couldn't say what he needed to and face the man. There just wasn't enough strength in him. "As a species, we are some of the most... I won't blame you if you just take off one day. I won't say that you're not needed here, but if it's all that's keeping you here, your job's done."

Clark was silent for a while. He started to say something, physically moving in his spot, several times. Each time, however, he would pull back and let it go. Finally, he settled on something else. "Why is Jimmy's name not on the plaque?"

The older man exhaled slowly. Letting his head fall, he shook it absently. "Jimmy was no longer employed here at the time of..." he trailed off, unable to finish. When the door opened and closed a short time later, he had to bite his lips to keep from reacting. Closing his eyes, he clenched his hands around the arm rests of his new chair.

Shutting off her desk lamp, Kat stretched her neck and turned her head until she heard a pop. Sighing from the relief, she picked up her purse. She started to weave her way through the desks only to stop at Clark's. His light was the only one left on in the entire day time newsroom; not even Perry still remained.

Leaning against his desk, she waited until he looked up before smiling. She pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Hey there. Got any plans tonight?"

Twisting the pencil between his fingers, Clark shook his head. He had been contemplating what the editor had said for hours. Nothing had been resolved in his mind. "Not tonight."

Kat cocked her hip against the desk. "Wanna change that?" At his head shake, she sighed and turned off her charms. "Worth a shot." She shifted her coat from one arm to other so she could sit on his desk. "Are you going to the memorial ceremony tonight? I hear they are actually having scripture readings in seven different languages, each from a different religion. Some mumbo jumbo about being a holy number or lucky number."

Snorting, Clark put the pencil down on his desk. "No. I wouldn't feel like I belong."

"None of us do. We're alive, this ceremony is for the dead." Snickering, Kat felt utterly ridiculous for having made the crack. It was too tense for light conversation, but she wasn't having any of that. "We have to live it up, Kent. It's been six months, I've got a new body job, and I'm dying to take this puppy out and void the warranty, if you catch my meaning!"

Actually breaking out in a laugh this time, Clark shook his head. The offer was tempting, and for a minute, he allowed himself to look her over. She wasn't kidding about the new look. They had done a lot of nipping and tucking while fixing the scars that had covered her. But, it didn't feel right.

Seeing his physical reaction before he started to speak, Kat rolled her eyes and put a finger to his lips. "Stop. The verbal rejection would kill me. I'm off to the Marzipan Nightmare. See if this body can get me in with the just twenty-one crowd." Sliding off his desk, she shook her head. "God, I'm only thirty-two and already, I feel like I'm grand ma. I need to get laid. Ciao, Kent!"

Watching her go, Clark felt a little pang of envy strike his heart. She could move on with her life. All of them could. The scars were there, but as soon as they were gone, it was almost like none of it ever existed for them. Closing his eyes, Clark shut out the world around him.

Pushing the shirts on his closet's bar back in to place, Clark ran his hands down one of his favorites. The hiding place for his costumes was safe still, his building having been no where near the effected area. While he considered his clothes, he tugged on the sleeve of his uniform. It was one of the new ones his mom had made for him; the last set all but ruined from helping people six months before.

Ordinarily, the thought of his mom making his clothes would have made him cringe. Not for the fact that she couldn't do it, or they would be out of style, but because it was his mom. Momma's boys were always made fun of, no matter where he went. Then again, no mother was like his, so they could all go suck it!

Smirking at his thoughts, he shook his head and closed the closet door. If he was going to make the ceremony before the unveiling of the memorial, he had to hurry. Then again, he could break the speed of sound, he could linger a little longer.

He was considering using the skylight or his window when the phone rang. It was either Lois drunk dialing to tell him she had found another reason to hate Kat, or his parents. Checking the ID, he found it was the latter. He clicked the button and smiled. "Hi, mom, dad."

"Hello, son!" Jonathan's voice came over the line proud and clear. "I saw the news this evening. Great job for nailing that son of a bitch!"

"Thank you, dad." Skin growing hot, Clark lowered his head. He hadn't gone in, but his abilities had located Michael's hideout, plus he had flown cover. The authorities had needed this victory, to show the people they were strong even without him. It was a lie, but it was the publicity that counted.

"Clark, while I disagree with your father's language, I applaud your efforts. Congratulations and well done!" Cheering over the line, Martha giggled. "I'm very proud of you! I just wish I could tell the whole world my son saved the day."

"You can still brag about me, mom. I got a headline coming out in tomorrow's edition. Front page in big, bold print." Rubbing at the back of his head, Clark fought not to blush. When he realized what he had done, he walked over to the mirror to fix his hair. "How are you guys doing?"

"We're fine. Great even. We just wanted to call you." Martha sighed over the line. There was a TV playing in the background which she cut off. "Your father was watching the game when I dialed your number."

Clark had to fight not to chuckle. "I could tell. Who's winning?"

"We are! Yes!" The sound of loud cheering and kissing came through the speaker. "Sorry, Clark, the Suns scored a touchdown and I had to kiss your mother for good luck..."

"For the field goal," Clark finished. Hearing another smooch, he rolled his eyes. "I take it they got the extra point?"

"Sailed through clear!" This time it was his mother who responded. "Clark, are you still coming out tonight?"

"Yeah, it all depends on how long the ceremony takes. If I come in late, I'll use the window so as not to wake you." Checking the time, Clark winced. "Sorry, mom, dad, I have to go. I'm already late! I'll see you tonight or tomorrow morning. Love you, night!"

"Love you, Clark, I will see you then." His mother's voice held a note of pride that made his chest expand.

"The same goes for me, son. We love you and are both very proud of you." Jonathan kissed the receiver before hanging up.

Hanging up, Clark flew up to the ceiling of his apartment. Pushing open the skylight, he shot out over the city.

Metropolis was looking for Superman.


	6. Through Foxy Loxy's Lair To See The King

Through Foxy Loxy's Lair To See The King

The knock on the front door came while Clark was drying off the lunch dishes. His mother had told him and Jonathan to do it, but his father had mysteriously disappeared some where between clearing up the table and the kitchen. That was okay, he would let the old man have his fun for now. Later, he would tell him the cows all liked him better.

Not that that was something to brag about.

Realizing he had nothing to get even with his father with, Clark frowned and set the plate in the cupboard. "Mom, can you get that?" Drying off his hands, he walked back to the drainer on the sink. He picked up another plate, hearing his mother's footsteps in the living room.

Tuning out his mother's voice, he frowned. He had to come up with something, Jonathan couldn't go unpunished. There was that old tractor in the barn. He could take the wheels off it and hang them from the trees with chains. Then again, he would have to be the one to take them down again.

He was just starting to think of trading like with like at the next meal when his father mysteriously appeared at the kitchen doorway. Scowling at the older man, he raised the plate at him. "Where did you get off to?"

"Trade secret, very hush hush." Jonathan jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Your mother said come get you. She would have hollered, but apparently there's some lady friend for you and she doesn't want to appear a heathen, like some son of hers." His father held up his hands in defense. "Her words, not mine."

Clark considered it for a moment. It was probably Lois. She was the only woman who knew exactly where they lived. Had it been anyone else, they would have had to ask for directions and then the person asked would have called the farm to warn them. No one in Smallville knew his secret, but it wasn't like they didn't know something.

Jonathan cleared his throat, jerking behind him with his head.

"Oh, right." Clark started for the living room, pausing long enough to hand his father the dish towel and plate with a grin. "You'll take care of this, right, dad?" He pushed on without waiting for a response.

Standing in the front doorway, his mother was smiling at someone on the front porch. Hearing her son, she cast a relieved smile at him. "Oh look, here he is." When Clark came to a stop beside her, Martha patted him on the shoulder. "Don't say anything, she insisted on staying on the porch."

"Okay." Pecking his mother on the brow, Clark turned to look through the screen door. At first, he could barely make her out. He had to focus his eyes to see through the mesh. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

Taking off her sunglasses, she smiled at Clark. "Hello, CK."

Laying in his bed, Clark could hear the clock at the end of the hall ticking in time with the grandfather at the base of the stairs. Beside him, curled against his chest, Jimmy slept fitfully. Every so often, he would gently trace a hand down the younger man's side to ease his sleep. One of Jimmy's legs laid between his own.

For the life of him, Clark couldn't recall how they had ended up together in his bed. The last thing he could clearly remember was standing there in shock at seeing Jimmy alive. Whatever had happened, some where along the line, Jimmy had abandoned his disguise and now lay only in Clark's shirt. It was huge on him and ended at mid thigh.

There was also a suspicious bruise on Jimmy's neck he couldn't recall as having been there earlier.

It wasn't like their positions disturbed him, but the lack of memory was unsettling. If the ticking was right, he had lost almost fifteen hours. Strangely, the more he thought about it, the more he was okay with it. Instinctively, he knew the memories would come back to him soon.

As it was, he felt the need to get up. Carefully, he extricated himself from Jimmy, taking great care to not wake the younger man. When his foot was on the floor, he dragged the other from under Jimmy's leg and stood up. His joints cracked and he sighed from the relief of stretching. Apparently he had been there for a while.

Floating so he didn't have to step on the old floorboards in his room, he drifted to the door. He eased it open and back so he could head out to the stairs. The kitchen and the LEDs on the appliances were the only sources of light in the house. Floating down the stairs, he looked about him to ensure he was alone.

The clock said about three, thirty in the morning. It was late or early, depending upon what side of the sleep cycle you were on. He wasn't sure what he was doing up, but he ended up in the kitchen, staring at the contents of the fridge. There was a pitcher of fresh butter-milk on the top shelf, probably for fried chicken, that looked appealing. But, if he got in to that, he would drink it all.

Closing the fridge, he set down and walked to the sink. He grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water. Drinking the entire contents, he heard familiar footsteps in an unfamiliar rhythm on the steps. The heartbeat came to him along with the name. Setting the glass back down, he turned in time to see Jimmy wander in to the kitchen.

Hair mussed up and eyes almost shut, Jimmy scratched at his ear. "You woke up." Staggering in to the kitchen proper, he crossed to stand in front of Clark.

Clark didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around the younger man's waist. Sighing, he felt strangely content when Jimmy relaxed against him. He supposed it had something to do with the missing hours.

Laying his head upon Clark's shoulders, Jimmy moaned tiredly. "This floor is cold, how can you stand to walk it barefoot?"

"I'm used to it." Without thinking about it, Clark slid his hands down under the swell of Jimmy's bottom to lift him up. As he did so, he rose up off the floor until they hovered an inch or two above it. Holding Jimmy close, he realized the other man wasn't wearing underwear. "Feeling a draft, Jimmy?"

"Funny." However, he did nothing about it. Tightening his grip around Clark's waist, he murmured happily. "You're warm."

"Glad to know I can be of service." Clark pressed Jimmy tight against him, removing any doubt that Jimmy was male. Shaking his head, he lowered his chin to rest upon the other man's forehead. He closed his eyes, letting them enjoy the comfortable contact.

Clark didn't realize they were drifting until a few minutes later he bumped in to something behind him. Reaching back quickly, he encountered a box with knobs. In his attempt to steady it, he turned it on. A second later, low music came rolling out over the kitchen speakers.

"Hmm, I like this one." Shifting, Jimmy pushed more of his bottom in to the one hand that was holding him up.

"Put your feet on mine. I'll walk for both of us." Clark made sure Jimmy's feet were on his as the singer started up. Moving slowly in time with the music, he returned his hand to its hold. Distantly, he was aware they were actually dancing on air. The thought made him snort.

"They say that our love won't grow, but I just want to tell them, that they don't know." Singing along with the music, Jimmy snickered against Clark's throat. It was possible he was delirious from lack of sleep, but he didn't care. He just felt so damned good to be held in Clark's arms. "My mom always did like Jerry Butler."

"Of all the things I want in this whole wide world, is just for you to say that you'll be my girl." Laughing, Clark shrugged off Jimmy's slap to his back. They stayed dancing together long after the record in the player had ended.

By the time the sun had come up, Jimmy was back to snoring lightly in Clark's arms. He had to hold the other man, since there was barely enough room on his bed for him alone. Over the hours that they laid there, his memories had trickled back. There were a few things he had blushed over as they replayed in his mind, but nothing too embarrassing.

His parents had given them plenty of room, even going out for dinner while he and Jimmy talked. Jimmy hadn't any clothes or a place to stay, Clark's pants and underwear were too big, so that's how Jimmy ended up in his bed looking like a prom night cliche. The hickey was another matter in entirely. He couldn't recall how that had happened.

Jimmy's clinginess and his loneliness were probably responsible. Not that he could feel guilty about it. In fact, he hadn't thought or felt anything but happy since the other man had shown up at his parent's door.

A rooster went off in the barn, trying its damnedest to out scream the other two. Pretty soon, all three were going off at regular intervals.

Clark laid his head back on the pillow, just allowing himself to enjoy the relative peace of being back home. Given the constant flow of people and technology in Metropolis, the territorial disputes of a few fowl were nothing. Before he realized it, he was being shaken awake by Jimmy. Blinking, he frowned, then smiled as the other man leaned down to meet his lips.

Kissing Clark felt natural, and he had done it almost as an after thought. Pulling back, Jimmy laid on the other man's chest for a bit. It didn't occur to him that Clark, as a normal person, should complain about his weight. That didn't matter. Blinking slowly, he smiled. "I think I like you, CK."

"I know I like you, Jimmy." Clark pushed his hand up through Jimmy's hair, combing it back from his forehead. "You have no idea how much I've missed you. When I thought you were gone..."

"I'm sorry. I should've explained better last night, but I couldn't." Jimmy laid his head once more upon Clark's chest. He listened to the other man breath, his heart beating rapidly under his touch. "Until Micky was captured, I couldn't be sure. I'm sorry, truly, but I couldn't risk it. If I'd really known I had someone to come back to, I woulda found a way."

"It's okay, Jimmy." No, it wasn't, he wouldn't be okay with any of it for a while, now that he thought about it. Jimmy shouldn't have had to flee for his life. Clark shouldn't have felt guilty for supposedly losing his good friend. None of the people who had died, should have. It was all a big fucking mistake. "They should have listened to you."

"Yeah, they should have." It came out more venomous than he had intended, but Jimmy was too bitter to restrain it any longer. If Perry or anyone else had bothered to listen, so many other people might still be alive.

To distract Jimmy from the painful thoughts, Clark ran his fingers over the younger man's cheek. Cupping his face in his palm, he smiled at him. "You do realize this proves the rumors."

For a moment, Jimmy stared at Clark uncomprehending. Slowly, he looked down at the man's chest. Scarcely breathing, Jimmy stared for a long time before reacting. He traced out the shield pattern on Clark's chest.

Grabbing Jimmy's hand in his own, he brought it to his lips. His arm slid up under his lover's, holding him steady against his body. "We'll have to get up soon. My parents don't like it when people laze about when there's work to be done."

"They'll just have to make an exception." Raising his head, a sly expression spread across Jimmy's entire face. "Besides, who says we'll be lazing about?"

"Oh?" Clark's body decided to take an interest in the conversation. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"A few things."

...THE END


End file.
